From the Underground
by El Stormo
Summary: Even a bullet in the head is not always the end. And those who survive tend to want only two things: answers or revenge. And very often, both.
1. Graveyard Moon

**ONE**

**The Mojave Desert, near a town called Goodsprings**

**June 20th**

**01:36**

Waking up to a darkness, darker still than the surrounding night. Wrists held together, by ropes, or what feels like ropes. Aching knees from a kneeling position. Aching head from a heavy blow.

_How did I get here?_

Still kneeled, the sound of something scraping the earth… a shovel? Unable to see, something covering the head. Forced to rely on hearing. A click, followed by the noise of flint striking steel… a zippo lighter? Sound of lips blowing out smoke and lighter being flicked closed confirm it. Trying to move, but dizzy and nauseous.

"Our little birdie's waking up." A voice. Cruel and evil.

Again the sound of cigarette smoke being blown out. Then another voice. Less hard and rugged. More cultivated, sounding smooth and suave. "Take the bag off."

"Be easier if we do it like this," the cruel voice said.

"I'm callin' the shots here," the other voice replied. "Maybe you Khans don't look people in the eye when they do 'em in, but I got more class and respect than that. Take the bag off."

Sound of feet moving closer. Pulling sensation as the bag gets pulled off.

Even though it was night time, the girl still had to blink against what little light there was. Three people stood in front of her. One bearded, scruffy-looking, and leaning on a shovel. The one with the cruel voice. The second was female, with dark skin and hair shaven into two parallel mohawks, standing out sideways on her head. She held the bag that had covered the girl's head loosely by her side, as if ashamed to be holding it. Both of them wore sleeveless leather jackets with the emblem of a raging, helmeted skull proudly displayed on them.

The third was the owner of the more cultured voice. It matched his appearance: clean-shaven, well-groomed, hair neatly combed into a side-split. He slid his lighter back into the breast pocket of his black-and-white checkered suit and took another drag from his cigarette. The smoke reflected the glare of the two battery-powered halogen lights.

"Heya, kiddo."

The bearded man grinned and added his own, "Hi there girl." The woman said nothing, looking away.

What the Hell was going on here?

The man in the checkered suit sighed, long and dramatically, as if carrying a heavy burden. "I hate to have to do this to you, kiddo, but that thing you were carryin'… I had to have it, no matter the cost."

What _had_ she been carrying? A small box, right. Didn't weigh much. She hadn't looked what was in it, she never did. Being a courier meant being trusted with other people's items and she never violated that trust. But what could possibly have been so important? Her mind was hazy, she couldn't even remember who'd hired her.

From his other jacket pocket, the man in the checkered suit produced a small, shiny object. A coin? She tried to make out what it was, but it was too far away, and her vision was still blurring and doubling from the blow to her head. Her head and knees throbbed, one from being hit hard, the other from her weight resting on them. She tried to shift, but found she was tied to something immovable – her fingertips told her it was made of stone, whatever it was.

"It's a poker chip, in case you're having trouble making it out from down there," the man explained. "But not just any poker chip. This thing, this little platinum chip, is going to change the entire world."

He dropped the chip back into his jacket pocket and held out his hand toward the female standing next to him.

"Do we really have to do this?" the woman asked. It was the first time she'd spoken. She had a strange accent, one the girl on the ground couldn't immediately place. "She's like, what, sixteen? Just a kid. Isn't there any other way?"

"Fraid not, pussycat," the man in the checkered suit replied, sounding genuinely sad.

"I just think we should – "

"I paid you enough," he insisted, more sternly now. "This has to be done. Bit too late in the game for a bleedin' heart."

Resigned, the woman gave him what he'd asked for. The heart of the girl on the ground raced as she saw it, its form instantly clearing her head and shaking her out of her dizziness. Determined, the man's fingers took hold of the grip of the pistol.

Struggling for words, the girl on the ground could stammer no more than, "Hey wh… I didn't… I haven't…"

The man nodded solemnly. "I know. Believe me, it ain't nothing personal. This is strictly business. I'm sure you're a good kid, and I hate to have to do this, but it's a case of wrong place, wrong time."

"Listen, I – "

He shook his head. "No talkin'. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

The barrel of the pistol was pointed at her, a black hole eager and greedy to swallow her. The girl's heart beat like mad, her throat completely dry, tears blurring her vision. Her bladder felt like it was going to empty itself then and there. Her eyes briefly went to the female with the mohawks, but she again looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"Don't start crying on me, girl," the man with the pistol said gently. "Hang tough, be brave, alright?"

Without realizing why, she did as she was told, setting her jaw and breathing furiously through her nose, facing her executioner and his weapon, her tears making streaks in the dirt of her face, but no longer clouding her eyes. She was going to die here, only two days after her sixteenth birthday, shot for a package she didn't even know the importance of. She'd never know why, or what she'd done to deserve this. This man was not going to come back on his decision. Nothing she could say or do would make him change his mind. His eyes confirmed it – he was going to kill her, and all she had left, the only thing she still had control over, was her own bravery. Her lip trembled and her entire body shook, but she kept her eyes fixed on his.

"Atta girl," he said. "You're a trooper. Wish we'd met under different circumstances. Hell, we even could have been friends. Hat's off to you." He tipped an imaginary hat with his other hand.

"Goodbye, unknown unlucky wasteland girl."

There was a bang, and then no more.


	2. From the Wreckage

**TWO**

**Goodsprings**

**June 23rd**

**16:12**

The first sense to come back is hearing. There's a fan blowing in the room, somewhere. Or at least it sounds like a fan. Then the feeling of a dry mouth. A blanket. A hard bed. Wind gently blowing on the face. Probably from the fan.

Oh shit, headache! Suddenly hitting with full, pounding intensity. So much pain the itching from the bandage becomes so subtle it almost can't be felt.

_How did I get here? And where is here anyway? And why can't I open my eyes?_

Ah, there they go. Quickly closing them again. Damn light is far too intense, coming in through bright, blurred planes. God damn headache.

Shit yeah. Shot. In the head. People aren't alive after they've been shot in the head are they? This _feels_ alive though. Has to be.

"Well slap my ass and call me Caesar, you're actually waking up!"

_Huh?_

The sound of someone shifting in his seat. A book being laid down. The voice is closer now. "Don't be foolin' old doc Mitchell now. I saw you opening those eyes. Go on, open 'em again so I can finally see what colour they are."

_Don't doctors shine light into people's eyes to test their reactions or some shit?_

They open regardless, blinking and squinting against the harsh sunlight.

"My word, little lady, you must be the luckiest son-of-a-gun in the Wastes!" The man's heavy white moustache seemed to muffle his words. "I ain't seen anyone get shot in the noggin' and wakin' up. An' I tell you, it ain't because I'm such a good doctor."

The girl on the hospital bed tried to speak, but only managed a feeble groan.

"Hey now," the man with the white moustache said, concerned. "Don't go tellin' me you've lost your speech 'cause of that lead in the brain box. I ain't countin' on you to get out of bed an' tap dance, but you better still have all your senses, y'hear?"

"I c... I can talk," she croaked.

The old man theatrically wiped imaginary sweat off his brow. "Well dang it, that's good news. For a minute there I thought you'd be a droolin' vegetable."

The corners of her mouth made a slight grin. "Not before you are, old man."

"Ha!" he let out, slapping his knee. "Normally I'd smack you 'round the ear for that, kid, but I'm so relieved you're still lucid that I guess I can let that one slide this one time."

"I thought... you doctors were all about first doing no harm?"

He shrugged. "I'm retired, girlie. My memory concerning my oath's a little vague when it comes to educational slaps on the head."

"What happened to me?"

His face became more serious. "I was hopin' you'd be able to tell me that. All I know is, you've been shot in the head, buried, and dug back up by old Victor."

Shot in the head. Yeah, that made sense. She remembered a gun barrel and a flash. And why was she suddenly thinking of checkers? And who the Hell was Victor?

"Who's Victor?"

Mitchell gave a dismissive wave. "Never mind him for now. I was kinda hoping you'd know who did it. Victor ain't talkin'. Well, apart from his obnoxious cowboy routine. Stupid drawlin' moron."

For being all 'never mind' about this Victor type, he sure sounded like he did mind. But who _had_ done it? God dammit her head ached, especially the right side.

"I remember... a man. Face is vague. Don't know his name."

Mitchell's face became pensive, even more wrinkles showing on his weathered old face. "Hm. Well, things'll probably come back in time, right?"

"Hope so."

His eyes narrowed. "You intend to go after him?"

She hadn't thought of that yet. And frankly she didn't even want to decide that yet either. "I... don't know. Don't think that's a decision I need to make just now."

With a vigorous nod, Mitchell agreed. "Damn right. Right now, you got two things you gotta be doing."

"... Yes?"

He counted on his fingers. "One, get better and get your strength back. Two, be happy you're alive and treasure each damn day."

She chuckled, the movement sending fresh beatings of pain through her head. "I was already enjoying every day. Well, except those rotten days when people shoot me in the head. Kinda gets me a bit in a bad mood." She closed her eyes again. The light was still painful, and didn't help the awful headache.

"Can imagine that. But dang it, girlie, you had me worried."

"I was too unconscious to be worried, but I'm sure I'd have shared the sentiment if I wasn't."

"Mm. Wastes are a cruel place, an' people get shot every day, but it's not every day that they bring a trepanated sixteen-year-old to your doorstep."

He'd estimated her age perfectly. She swallowed, but it didn't make her mouth any less dry. "Glad to know a hole in the head doesn't make me look older. Does it add any pounds?"

She heard him laugh. "Hell no, girlie."

"How did I even survive?" It was a perfectly sensible question, and hadn't occurred to her before then.

"Well," he explained. "The guy who shot you must have been the most cross-eyed son of a bitch in the Wastes. You had powder burns so it must have been done from up close, an' instead of shootin' you in the center of the forehead," he placed a finger against his brow, "he got you in the side of the skull. Bullet only grazed the brain and did most of its damage to your brain pan."

"Huh. Lucky me."

"Lucky you, got that right." He took a sip of his coffee, or whatever it was he'd let get cold inside that mug. "So far there's no signs of actual brain damage, but I was still really worried, 'cause you never know with brains. There's just one thing though."

"Mm?"

"The uh, bullet did most of its damage to your skull, and the side of your head. Had to cut your head open to get the fragments out. I got the skull patched up and sowed your scalp, but I ain't a surgeon, and I knew every second counted, so I had to be quick. And, well, messy." He cleared his throat. "You're uh... gonna have a pretty big scarred stripe above your temple."

The hospital bed made her shrug look a bit awkward. "Scars add character, right?"

"That they do. It's just... where you got scar tissue, the hair no longer grows."

She opened one of her eyes again. "You're not gonna call me baldie, are you?"

"Come on, this is serious. It's gonna be a noticeable hairless stripe."

It _was_ bad news, but after being shot in the head and waking up still alive, some missing hair meant she'd get off easy, and she had to acknowledge that. "It's alright. I'm alive, that's what matters."

"Ain't it the truth," Mitchell agreed. "An' I ain't gonna be callin' you baldie. Hell, you can do the same to me, so it'd be kinda stupid, right?" He had a point. His head was as bald as a pool ball.

"No grass grows on a busy street."

He laughed again, hoarsely but sincere. "An' hey, at least they ain't callin' you mole-butt."

"Uh... what?"

Sheepishly, he admitted, "The skin on my bee-hind was never the most spotless. Now, girlie, I'm happy to get the chance to talk to you, but you need to get some rest now. Gotta gather your strength."

"Yeah... I feel a little woozy."

He nodded. "Got a bad headache, I wager?"

"You have _no_ idea."

Another nod, this one accompanied by a grave face. "Need something to help you sleep?"

"Wouldn't say no."

Laboriously, and with a theatrical groan, he rose from his chair. "Had to keep you sedated with ketamine. I know, it's an animal tranquillizer and what kind of moron uses that on people, but you gotta work with what you got."

She didn't know it was an animal tranquillizer, and honestly, who cared?

"But now," he said, coming back from a small cupboard he'd gone to take something out of, "I can use the limited amount of actual human sedatives I got here." He held up a syringe, not without pride. "Got just one thing I'm askin' in return though."

The man had saved her life. So long as he wasn't asking her to single-handedly build him a space ship, she figured she owed him whatever he wanted. Within limits of decency of course. "Sure, ask away."

He breathed in gravely. Hoo boy, it must be something pretty demanding. "If you can remember, and if you're inclined to tell, I'd be really interested in knowing your name."

Oh! Right. Dammit, she hadn't told him her name. Well, he'd never asked, and it's not like she wasn't too woozy to be actively rude. "Oh, sorry. It's En."

"Anne, huh?"

Yep, him too. _Everyone_ she told her name to reacted the same way, usually with that typical retarded hunh?-face people made when they thought the person standing in front of them was too stupid to properly pronounce her own name. Then again, if everyone acted that way, it must have been a mistake that was simply easy to make, and it was kinda funny to see everyone reacting the same way. So she said, as she always did, "No, not Anne. En. Ee-en."

His pensive face made him look as if he was about to start eating his moustache. "Now that's a name I ain't never heard before. Short for somethin'?"

Again that question. She had to smile at the predictability of people. "No. Just En."

"Well, alright then. Miss En, I'm doc Mitchell, but you already knew that, and I'm damn pleased to be able to meet you."

She smiled. "Pleasure's all mine, doc."

"We'll talk more later. This'll help you sleep."

She was out before the needle even came out of her arm.

* * *

><p>"They're getting pushier, doc. Cobb was here again yesterday, and he wasn't just asking anymore. Now it's become plain threats."<p>

Huh. A female voice. Sounding rather young. His daughter, maybe? No, wait, then she wouldn't call him doc. Oh, right. Opening eyes is a good idea, yeah.

Doc Mitchell sounded pretty agitated. "Well, what am I supposed to do about it? We hand him over and we condemn an innocent man. If we say no, they'll just march in here and – " It was then he noticed En's open eyes. He held up a finger, shutting himself and the other woman up. "Let's continue this another time. My patient's awake."

The other woman's face instantly went from concerned to excited. "Oh, great!" She immediately turned to En. She was pretty, looking Hispanic, with dark brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail, fine lips and a narrow nose. It looked atypical for her apparent heritage, but in a pleasant manner. In her late twenties, early thirties? Something like that. "I've been dying to talk to you!"

"Uh... why?" was all she managed to think of. "Didn't know I had a fan club this far out."

"Well... we were all wondering why someone would put a bullet in the head of a girl your age." Her worn leather armour, patched up in several places, and the cheap, worthless-looking but frequently used rifle on her back made En suspect she knew a fair bit about bullets herself. She looked like a tough, strong woman. "I mean, it's not every day they bring in a teenager shot in the head."

En couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah. That's what the doc said too."

Mitchell only grinned sheepishly.

"And call us curious, but we're all dying to know what happened to you."

"So am I. Memory's a little hazy."

"Well," the woman said, "No rush, it'll come back, right? Pleased to meetcha. Name's Sunny."

"Heya," En returned the greeting hoarsely. "I'm En."

Holding up a finger, Mitchell quickly added, "Not Anne."

"Uh… right," the woman apparently called Sunny said, clearly intent on asking that very question before the doc had answered it for her. "Well, good to see you're doing alright."

"I've had worse," she joked. "Who's Cobb?"

The doc and Sunny exchanged a glance. "He's just some asshole making trouble," the woman finally said. En had seen good liars in her life, but this woman wasn't one of them.

"Sounds like more than just making trouble if he's capable of making people 'just march in here and'," En insisted.

"He's… got some powerful friends," Mitchell finally admitted. "But you don't concern yourself with that now, y'hear? You need to get better, that's all that matters right now."

"Who are those powerful friends'?" En asked despite the doctor's gentle order.

Another glance exchanged by the two standing by her bed. Mitchell tried to subtly shake his head without En noticing, but of course that didn't work. "It… doesn't matter, hun," Sunny said after a moment.

"Sure it does. Come on, what's your trouble? I'll be staying in this town for a while, so why not clue me in, huh? Maybe I can help?"

"Help?" Mitchell blurted out. "I appreciate the spirit, young lady, but you're gonna rest and you're gonna heal. That's the best way you can help right now."

"I meant, help with advice and stuff?" En lied.

"Yeah," Mitchell snorted, his epic white moustache trembling with the air displacement. "That's what you meant, sure. I want you to get better, girlie, not go prancin' around town playing do-gooder an' suddenly droppin' dead."

"No harm in telling her, doc," Sunny said with a sigh. "People talk in this town, so better if she hears it from us." She turned back to En. "His friends are escaped prisoners who took over their prison. Dangerous people."

Mitchell rolled his eyes and threw up his hands at the heavens.

"Ah, right. And I bet right now they're being all Fight the Power and shit, right?"

"Some… thing like that. Though they're more about blowing up and pillaging than about idealistic anarchism."

En chuckled, pain shaking through her head as she did so. "Isn't it always like that with groups like those?"

Wearily, Mitchell agreed, "You said it, girlie."

"We're harboring someone who… well, ruffled those people's feathers a bit," Sunny went on, "and now they're demanding we hand him over."

"So don't?"

With a short, humourless laugh, Sunny muttered, "What I think too. But if only it were that simple." She sighed. "Well, I gotta run. Been good meeting you, not-Anne, but I can tell from the doc's icy glare that I need to let you get some rest now." She looked at the frowning Mitchell and made an exaggeratedly scared face. "Geez, he looks like he's about to zap me stone dead."

"Alright, alright," Mitchell finally gave in, abandoning his crossed-arms stance and his icy glare. "Go on, Sunny, beat it."

With a grin, Sunny sang, "See you later, missy," and walked out.

Mitchell shook his head. "Don't be listening to her too much, y'hear, girlie?" He slowly, laboriously walked to the coffee machine and poured himself another cup. Like everything else in this house, it was old. "She's a fine lady, but sometimes she gets a bit carried away by her idealism."

"Idealism is good, right?" En liked the woman more with every word she said, or that was said about her. "I mean, this world needs people who stand up for what's right."

With a sigh, Mitchell sat down and admitted, "Ain't that the truth. But y'also need to learn to temper your idealism, make it realistic, make sure people don't get hurt because of it."

En frowned, intensifying her headache. "She doesn't seem like the type to put others at risk."

Carefully, Mitchell moderated his statement. "I didn't say that. I'm just saying that trying to do the right thing is nice, but sometimes you need to do the safest thing. For everyone involved."

En hoped Mitchell wasn't going where she thought he was with this. "You mean, hand that guy over to those convicts? That's what this is about, right?"

"No," Mitchell immediately and firmly said. "Don't misunderstand me, that's outta the question. Those convicts are ruthless killers and far as we know, the guy hasn't done anything wrong 'cept be in the wrong place at the wrong time." He cracked his knuckles and thought for a moment. "But bangin' on about takin' a stand and letting the situation turn into a gunfight, that I can't approve of."

En really did like the woman more with every word. She wasn't a fan of gunfights either, but someone so prepared to take a stand for an innocent man – at least, she hoped he was innocent – deserved respect. And if that someone was also sympathetic and friendly, then so much the better. So far, this Sunny woman seemed like everything En wanted to be when she got older. Someone to look up to, definitely.

"Anyway, hun. How're you feelin'? Sorry for wearin' you out with all that talk."

"Mm? Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't have asked all those things if I didn't want to hear what you thought." How _was_ she feeling? "Head aches. Really bad. This pounding, hammering pain."

Mitchell nodded solemnly. "I can only imagine. But you gotta bite the pain, girlie. It'll get better."

"I hope so. Pretty nauseous too. My ears ring sometimes."

"Should all go away. Well, hopefully." Apologetically, he added, "Medicine ain't like repairing a broken cuckoo clock. No certainties in medical science."

"Hey, doc, I think I'd like to try to get up. Would you… I mean, d'you think that's alright?"

He looked genuinely surprised at the question. Well, uh, I… I guess we can give it a go. If you're sure you're up to it?"

"I… think so, yeah. Can't stay on this bed forever."

He held out his hand. "Well, how 'bout we try sitting up first?"

"Cool." En took the doctor's hand, but for some reason, only then realized she was only wearing her underwear under the blanket. She dreaded asking the question, but she did it nonetheless. "Hey doc, tell me something first?"

"Sure, girlie?"

Ugh, this was awkward. "I'm only wearing my undies. You didn't… did you?"

He frowned in puzzlement for a moment, but then realization came over his face. "Oh, like that. No, girlie, and that's a promise. You were brought in here with a head wound. I had to remove the dirty clothes you were wearing, but there was no reason to take off your undergarments, so I left them on."

He seemed to be telling the truth. It was a relief.

"Besides," he continued, "even if I didn't have any morals, you're still a sixteen-year-old. I'm old enough to be your grandfather, and I sure as Hell don't take an interest in children. And on top of that, that kind of stuff just doesn't interest me anymore." He let out a humourless laugh. "My wick's been spent for many years already. Ever since my wife died, as it happens." He seemed pained to say it, and En guessed it was only logical.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to – "

"Oh, no, sweetheart, that's perfectly fine. Just sayin', I ain't no dirty old man."

"Not in that way at least. Your moustache could use a clean though," En joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Ha! You know, every lame joke you make, makes me happier that you've pulled through. The thought of a cheerful little thing like you, at the start of her life, an' with so much to give, dyin' on my operatin' table, that's hard to bear."

"Well," En said with a smile, "I didn't die, so don't think about that." She held out her hand, and in an exaggerated posh accent asked, "Would the gentleman care to help me out of my carriage?"

Trying to imitate her accent but sounding hilariously awful, Mitchell took her hand. "Certainly madam, it would be my pleasure."

En closed her eyes and took a breath. If her head ached as badly now, it would hurt twice as much when she'd try to get up. Still, the thought of getting back on her feet was motivation enough. And knowing there was a shower in walking range, that just made it all the more worth the effort. Because dammit, she craved a shower. The sweat and blood that clung to her drove her crazy.

"Ready when you are, girlie."

She nodded and closed her fingers around Mitchell's old, wrinkly hand, and pulled herself up with unwilling muscles. Her head began pounding harder, but she bit the pain, pushing herself up with her free hand and with a tremendous effort of will, through the pain, she managed to sit up straight, the blanket falling off her upper body, chilling her from the sweat that clung to her skin being exposed to the air. She'd believed Mitchell when he'd said he didn't care about stuff like that, so she wasn't that uncomfortable. Plus, it was just her bra, and even then, it was not like her tits were all that special. Far from it. The man had doubtless seen much bigger ones in his lifetime.

"Let's go now, one foot on the ground. You can do this, girlie."

_I can do this_

She took another breath and lowered one leg to the ground, the ball of her foot making contact with the old tiles.

"One more." Mitchell sounded immensely surprised.

Grunting from the pain in her head and setting her jaw, she placed her other foot next to the first.

"Holy shit, girlie, I can't believe what I'm seein'. You must be tougher than a titanium box of tungsten nails!"

"Yep. I'm the man," En panted, her eyes still shut. The pounding in her head was almost unbearable.

"That you are. Don't overdo yourself though. That you're actually sitting upright is an incredible feat already."

"I'm gonna try though." She didn't know why she had to try, but dammit, she had to. If only to be certain that she could still move and use her muscles. And, she supposed, for the personal challenge as well. "Alright, here goes."

Clenching her teeth, she shifted her (quite limited) weight to her legs and tried to stand. Her butt came off the bed, but as it did so, a loud ringing swelled in her ears, and her head began to pound so hard black spots pulsed into her vision. The nausea in her stomach also got worse, and just as she was about to stand up straight, her stomach contracted violently, sending a sour, awful liquid up through her esophagus and into her mouth. The stuff ran against her teeth, but she kept her lips pressed firmly together, so her cheeks inflated slightly but the goop stayed inside.

"Aw, shit," Mitchell breathed, apparently noticing what had happened. He snatched up his coffee cup (it said SMART DOCTORS DRINK TEA) and rapped, "Spit it out in here, girlie."

En spat out the yellow crap, sending it into the doc's coffee cup with a light _splat_. Then dizziness overtook her and she fell back onto the hospital bed, doc Mitchell's hand quickly catching her head and lowering it gently onto the pillow. A tissue pressed onto her lip, wiping off the string of bile clinging to it.

"You alright?"

En could only groan inarticulately, eyes closed.

There was a brief silence, and then the doc's voice. "Looks like I won't be finishing this coffee."

"Gee thanks, after all the trouble I went through to flavor it."

A light chuckle. "You tried hard enough for today, now you need to rest some more, awrite?"

"Yeah, okay."

"And that bathroom, girlie, that's gonna be your reward when you get to your feet. So rest up well, and get your strength back."

The effort to get up had drained her far more than she'd expected, and she drifted off into sleep before she could even answer.


	3. Difficult to Stand on Both Feet

**THREE**

**Goodsprings**

**June 24th**

**20:03**

She'd earned the damn shower. Earned every second of it. Doc Mitchell wouldn't disagree, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. After sleeping for a few more hours, she'd tried again to get out of bed. The headaches, ringing ears, and nausea had been awful again, but she'd persevered and willed herself to the damn bathroom. She'd wobbled and staggered a few times, but with Mitchell's support, she'd made it, letting out a squeal of triumph when her fingers finally got hold of the door knob that had seemed so impossibly far away. Undressing, without the doc's help (because come on, seriously) had been another test of will, but sitting on the toilet lid, and taking it nice and slow, she'd managed to get her panties and bra off. She'd had to fight the urge to vomit once or twice, and it had left a sour taste in the back of her mouth, but she figured if that was the least of her worries, she'd be an ingrate if she didn't jump twenty feet into the air and shouted out her joy. Well, mentally then, of course.

The hot water made her feel better instantly, even though her head still pounded. Doc Mitchell had forbidden her from getting the shower head any higher than her shoulders, because hot water _really_ wasn't beneficial to a healing hole in the head, so she respected that wish, but washing her hair was something she really looked forward to. Still, being able to wash the sweat and stink off her body was heaven already. And of course, it was nice to finally have some time to herself, to not always have Mitchell asking questions and being all concerned. It was awfully sweet of him and he was pleasant company and all, and she'd never be able to repay him for what he'd done, but still, being alone with her thoughts for a few minutes felt calming. And she'd finally get the chance to think about what had put her here.

The man in the checkered suit. He'd held up an object before putting the gun to her head. She tried to grasp at the visual memory, but only saw light so strongly reflected on the object that she could only remember that it looked shiny. Trying to remember it visually didn't work. She couldn't make it out that way. Had trouble making it out…

_It's a poker chip, in case you're having trouble making it out from down there_

A poker chip, right! But not just any poker chip. Shiny, silver? No, platinum! A platinum poker chip. Sure, platinum was valuable, and desperate people killed each other over it, but this guy? Killing over a few grams of precious metal? Nu-uh, had to be more to it. It was going to change the entire world, he'd said. She absently pushed back the shower curtain clinging to her butt. Again she tried to remember, but she couldn't make out his face. His hair, though. Parted to one side, black, and carefully modeled. Accent, sounding like in those old pre-War movies… fifties? Something like that. Remembering his face or no, she'd recognize him instantly if she saw him. That much was certain.

A few hard knocks sounded, pulling her out of her thoughts. "You alright in there?"

"Yeah, fine," she half-shouted back over the sound of the running water. "Just being happy I'm alive and treasuring each damn day. And each damn minute of shower time."

She thought she heard him laugh, but she could have been mistaken. "Well hurry it up in there, that boiler ain't got enough heated water to last forever!"

Pouting at the shower curtain, she sighed and forced herself to turn off the water. A clean towel was draped over a rack, with a note balanced on top of it, "Go ahead & use."

She'd use the towel, sure, but right now, she just wanted to stand and drip. The pounding in her head was still there, but it was quieter than it had been in the last two days, and the air on her wet body felt immensely refreshing and soothing. Then her old friend Mister Bladder made himself known. Or better, let her know he would not be ignored any longer. Oh how she hated those moments. Sometimes she'd just hold it up for hours trying to postpone the inevitable, until her lower belly ached and she felt like the pressure would make her inflate and then blow out some invisible cork inside her and she'd be transformed into a human geyser, propelled through the room by the force of her own pressurized pee and frightening and spraying everyone like a grotesque but hilarious balloon. But no matter how hard she tried, she gave in every time. Can't beat old momma Nature. Quickly drying herself with the towel, she lifted the toilet lid and sat down, determined not to let the discomfort of this business spoil her mood. Biting the burning pain, and screwing her eyes shut, she let the problem take care of itself, only letting out her held breath in a pained gasp when it was done.

Then she noticed the fresh underwear and clothes, neatly folded up on a chair. They were hers alright, her spare clothes she'd had in her pack when checkers and his cronies had grabbed her. So they'd found her backpack. That was definitely cool. Plenty of things in there that would have been a bother to replace. She stood up, doing her best to ignore the re-intensified pounding in her head, and got dressed, having to support herself against the wall a few times to keep from falling over. Under the clothes she'd put on, was another pile, this one clearly _not_ hers. That was weird. But then she spotted the note in the small trash bin under the sink, partly crumpled up. When she folded it open, it said, "My late wife's. Hope they fit."

Awww, she had to smile when she read it. The man had even been ready to let her wear his late wife's clothes until someone had brought En's pack. Good thing she didn't have to, though. The bra that lay on top was at least a D-cup. En's modest B looked like a training bra in comparison.

"Ah well," En whispered to no one in particular. "I'm not fully grown yet."

She'd have to repay the kind old man, though. And with every thoughtfulness he displayed, it became a little bit less possible to ever be able to thank him fully. And even though she knew that he did it out of the goodness of his heart and that he didn't expect any payment, she still resolved to do all she could to repay her debt.

Before she left the bathroom, however, she took a moment to look at her own face. A small part of her had dreaded to imagine her looking in a mirror and having an unknown face staring back at her, but she was still herself, and remembering it. Her right eye was surrounded by a nasty black ring, and a broad bandage was wrapped around her head, making for a comical white beanie hat, with a red stain on the right side. For some reason, and purely for comedic value, she imagined the stain growing larger and reddening the entire bandage save for a spot at the top and a strip at the bottom, turning it into a Santa hat. Gah, she had too much childish imagination.

Her face didn't look damaged by the headshot, thankfully. Her nose was still as straight and adorable (if she did say so herself) as before, and her mouth still had its mischievous little curl. The right side of her face was a bit swollen, though, and there was the black eye, of course, but she assumed that would all go away in time. Well, except the hair thing. She was tempted to peel off the bandage to see how bad the damage was, but she realized there'd be no point. It'd only be clear once it had healed a bit. Plus, taking off the bandage would probably open the wound again, and Mitchell would go nuts if she did it. She did, however, gently touch the red spot on the bandage. Instead of a soft depression in her skull she expected to feel, though, she felt a hardness under her fingers, so the doc had somehow managed to restore her skull. So much the better. Having to be careful of not hitting her head on a soft spot every time was not her idea of fun.

"Took your sweet time," Mitchell remarked with that joking sourness she'd gotten used to from him.

"I'm enjoying every day as if it was the last," En replied with a smile.

Mitchell nodded. "And a damn good thing that y'are. Most young people, they spend so much time worryin' an' tryin' to get ahead that they forget to live."

"Ah, doc, you and your wisdom."

"Well," Mitchell said, pointing his chin at En. "Guess there's no doubt anymore that those clothes we found nearby are yours, huh? Fit you like a glove."

They _were_ a bit tight around the bod, but she'd always hated wearing clothes that flapped around when it got windy. Plus, tighter clothes meant less sand in the… well, everywhere. "Yeah, they're mine. Hey, did you find my tool belt too?"

"Sure did," Mitchell said with a nod. "Sunny borrowed it for a while though, needed to do some repairs on her rifle."

"I see." Somewhat concerned, she added, "Hope she didn't break anything."

Mitchell gave her a slightly scolding frown. "If she did, then it'd be nothing compared to the fact that she and Ringo dragged your ventilated self all the way here."

Geez, he didn't really think that she'd be mad, did he? "No, no," she said hastily. "I mean those tools cost me a whole lot, and most of them are specially calibrated to my style. It'd be a lot of work getting them replaced. I don't mind if she uses them. Hell, she can _have_ them if she wants, but it'd make me sad if one of them got broken." Just to be clear, she stressed, "Sad. Not angry."

"They're just tools, girlie."

"I know, I know, but my parents bought me most of them. Sentimental value, you know? I wouldn't mind giving them to the people that saved me, I'd just hate to see one of them get broken."

"Ah. Like that."

"Yeah." But hey, since they were on the topic of repaying the people of Goodsprings for saving her life, a thought occurred to her that could get her started with the first effort. "Hey doc, I'd really like to go help Sunny, if that's okay?"

He had to think for a moment, surprised by the question. "Uh… sure, it's okay, if you feel up to it. But Sunny knows what she's doing, not sure if you can help?"

This wasn't the time to be modest. "Doc, if it comes to repairing, I've never met a single person who does it better than I do." She was vaguely aware that her face had formed a smirk, but she supposed a little bit of haughtiness was not undeserved.

Doc Mitchell seemed intrigued. "My, my, big words." He let out a melancholic sigh. "Ah, youth. They always think they know it all."

She wasn't going to let _that_ challenge slide. Laughing and wagging her finger, she said, "Oh ho ho, doc. You'll soon be eating those unfortunately chosen words!"

"Impress me, girlie."

"I'm willing to bet you twenty caps that in one hour, you'll have Sunny standing in front of you, awed by how quickly I fixed her gun."

Mitchell crossed his arms defiantly. "Twenty caps it is, doll."

* * *

><p>The last bit of twilight faintly illuminated the dirt roads of Goodsprings. It wasn't much of a town, really. Just a few dilapidated wooden houses, evenly spread between the dirt roads. Here and there, patches of asphalt could still be seen, but most of it was gone. Doc Mitchell's house, a white wooden bungalow, stood on a small hill overlooking the town. Most of the houses looked inhabited, and at least a bit maintained. Rusty identical mailboxes stood in front of each house, on crooked, equally rusted poles. En didn't think the people here received much mail anymore. Doubtless all the Guns 'n' Ammo and Sarsaparilla Man Weekly magazines had already been looted. She'd once come across an abandoned house, deep in the Wastes, when she'd lost her way, and the mailbox had actually had a gay porn mag still sticking in it, completely dried up and half-rotted away. The rot had, unfortunately, not eaten away all the anatomical details.<p>

Here and there, a man or woman was tending a small, dried, worthless front garden, and a ways off, she saw an old man herding two brahmin to a small, almost grassless pasture. Life here must be an absolute thrill.

"Time's wastin', girlie," Mitchell said gleefully in the doorway behind her.

"I uh… where's Sunny's house, again?" Not that she'd ever known.

"Hey now. The deal was, Sunny here in one hour, jaw dropped to her feet by your unparalleled expertise." Looking at his own fingernails, he added, "Weren't nothing said about me having to help you or show you the way."

"Come on," she said, adding some disapproval into her voice. "Don't be unsportsmanlike."

A chuckle sounded behind her. "House right there, next to the general store."

* * *

><p>En opened the door to the house Mitchell had pointed out, and before she knew what happened, a big hairy creature leapt up against her, throwing her to the ground, intensifying that lovely headache she still had. The thing bowled her over and landed on top of her, pinning her down with its weight.<p>

She desperately held the dog off with her hands, but the beast simply kept barking right in her face, the sharp teeth passing only centimetres from her face, its breath wafting hot on her skin. En frantically swatted and kicked at the beast, but to no avail. Shit, this thing was going to rip her up.

"Cheyenne!"

The dog immediately stopped barking, remaining motionless on top of his victim. Its ears stood up straight and its eyes looked to its side.

"Cheyenne, come here right now." It was Sunny's voice. And this fleabag was her dog. Phew.

The dog, whining softly, came off En and went to sit beside its master.

"Geez, sweetie, sorry about this," Sunny apologized. "But you really should have knocked first."

Her head pounding, En clumsily tried to get to her feet. "Yeah, I'll remember that."

"Cheyenne's sweet, but she gets a little carried away when she thinks there's an intruder." Scratching the dog behind the ear, she concluded, "She's a protective one."

En slapped the dust off her jeans. "Yeah. Well, I didn't stand a chance, that's for sure."

With an apologetic face, Sunny repeated, "Sor_ry_."

"No worries. Hey I heard you're busy fixing your gun?"

Sunny looked startled. "Oh! Yeah, sorry, I used your tools. Was I not supposed to? I thought it'd be alright if I just borrowed them for a sec?"

"Relax, it's fine," she assured. But she couldn't stop herself from adding, "You didn't break any, did you?"

"No, no. Well, least not yet."

"Want me to take a look?"

She looked back inside the house. "Uh… yeah, I guess. Maybe you'll spot something I missed."

En resisted making another snooty remark. "You never know, right?"

"Right."

Sunny led her into the house, En's wary eye never coming off Cheyenne the german shepherd, who docilely walked next to her owner. Still eyeing the dog, she tried to make some conversation. "So, is Sunny your real name? Or just a nickname? Cause you're all cheery and stuff?"

She laughed. "No. It's short for Alejandra."

Sunny, short for Alejandra? En didn't know what kind of strange name-shortening criteria these people used, but she had no idea how a name like Alejandra could be shortened to Sunny.

"Alejandra, Alexandra, Sandra," Sunny explained, seesawing her head with every word, "… Sandy, Sunny. There ya go."

Oh. Right. "Yeah I… guess that makes sense. In a weird-ass way."

Sunny shrugged, still walking in front of her. "I'm not the one who chose that particular version of my name. Anyway, here we are."

Her cheap rifle was bolted down onto a workbench, En's tools laid out next to it. From the way it had been clamped into the vise, En knew this was an amateur at work. That twenty was hers.

"Often misfires. I'm thinking it's the striking pin," Sunny explained. "But I can't figure out what's wrong with it."

"Uh huh." En sat down at the work bench, reaching for her tool belt. But as she did so, a loud shrieking grew inside her head and her vision doubled. Her hearing became muted, and the pain in her head built to shattering, smashing levels.

"En? You okay?" It sounded like it was miles away and said into a pillow. She was not okay. Not at all. Her head seemed like it was ready to blast into a thousand pieces, the pain walloping at it with every heartbeat, and the shrieking in her ears became deafening. She heard herself let out a feeble, "Uhn," and had to support herself on the workbench. A sudden bout of nausea made her stomach contract, and dizziness washed over her.

"Hey? You alright? Shit, I'll go get the doc. Hang in there, okay?" Sunny shouted from far away. En held up her hand and breathed, "No, no. I'm alright." The pounding lessened, the nausea slowly abated, and her vision hesitantly returned to normal. The shrieking in her ears gave one last spike, and then began to diminish. Shit, what the Hell was that?

"Geez, hun. You actually went gray for a second there."

Air forced itself up through her esophagus, and En let it out, not in a state to care about the burping sound. The taste of vomit came up with it. "I'm... I'm fine. Gimme a minute."

"You sure?"

She flapped her hand at Sunny. "Yeah, yeah."

"Did you have those attacks before?"

She shook her head, the pain pulsing with the movement. "I guess it's... one of the things I'll get to keep from the little goodbye present I got a few days ago."

Sunny leaned against the door jamb, crossing her arms. "Yeah. Ain't that a kick in the head."

"You said it." To En's surprise, Sunny's dog gently licked the back of her hand.

"Awww, look. See, she likes you already," Sunny said with a smile.

"Yeah. I think I'll need some more time to feel comfortable around her though." The pain had returned to its normal levels and the nausea was just a faint queasiness in her stomach. Sweat had broken out on her skin, but the worst was definitely over. Might as well earn her twenty. "So... you said you think your striking pin's misaligned?"

"Yeah, I think so. But hey, you don't have to - "

"It's alright. I've got a bet with the doc going."

"Yes, but - "

"It's _fine_," she assured again. And determined not to listen to further objections, she took the weapon out of the vise it had been clamped in. It was one of those cheap things you saw every start-up adventurer-type run around with. .22 long-rifle calibre. Not at all powerful, and definitely not accurate. She opened the chamber and instantly saw where the problem was _not_. "Huh. It's not your striking pin, I can tell you that already."

Sunny cocked her head, still leaning against the door jamb. "M-hm?"

Ah, but there it was. "Did you drop this? Or bang on it?"

"I... well, um, sometimes when it um... doesn't work, I have to, you know..." Sunny stammered, sounding guilty. "... give it a few wallops, and then it usually works again."

"Yeah, well," En told her, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she poked inside the chamber with her screwdriver, "Guns aren't made to be 'walloped'. Did you bang it against a rock?"

"Uh... yeah, sometimes."

"Thought so," En scolded. "Probably with the body, right? Top of the weapon, downwards against the stone?" There were pits in the metal where the weapon had impacted with a hard object.

Sunny looked at the ground. "... Yeah."

"M-hm," En went on. "Thought so. Next time, might wanna just stop shooting and ask me to take a look instead. See, all your banging's misaligned your chamber. That's why you just get dry clicks. The striking pin's in the right place, but the bullet's a few millimetres off. So the pin just strikes the side of the chamber instead of the rim of the bullet."

Sunny sounded more embarrassed with every word she said. "Can you fix it?"

En nodded, still inspecting the rifle. "Sure." Setting her screwdriver against the side of the chamber, she gave a few careful hits with her hammer. Another look inside, again with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, another small tap, and then she proudly presented the rifle to Sunny. "All done."

Sunny turned the rifle over in her hands, looking skeptical. "Mind if I put it to the test for a sec?"

It was a bit of an insult, but En shrugged nonetheless. "Sure, enjoy. Mind you, that old Model 52's on its last legs. Might wanna invest in something newer."

With a sigh, Sunny said, "I know. But it's good enough to kill rats or geckos with."

En leaned back in her chair. "While it lasts, yeah."

All Sunny could reply with was, "Yeah. Anyway, I'll be right back."

"Hold on, I'll come watch."

Sunny's backyard was barely worth of the name. It was a patch of dry earth with a few tenacious weeds and scrubs barely clinging on to life, surrounded by a faded old white picket fence. A weathered wooden bench stood at the end of it, with a wooden board mounted behind, to catch the bullets, probably. Unfortunately for Sunny, she didn't need more than a wooden board to stop the pathetic little .22LR rounds that the old Winchester 52E fired. En had never owned a gun (her parents had forbidden her to have one, just barely keeping themselves from frothing at the mouth when they told her why not, bless them), but she knew a fair bit about them, since everyone in New Arroyo had always come to her for gun repairs. And she'd seen more than her share of weapons that had been ruined by good old percussive maintenance. Why anyone thought banging on something was a good way to make it work, En had no idea. Logic itself dictated that banging on something breaks it. Made sense, right? And still, people insisted on applying the old Fonzarelli fix to just about any piece of malfunctioning tech. Hey, if it worked in the movies, right?

Anyway, Sunny's rifle was just about as powerful as a spitball, probably made for sport rather than hunting or combat purposes. Sure, it probably took out the occasional rat of unusual size, or maybe even a small gecko (but never with one shot, or it'd have to be _perfectly_ placed), but against anything larger, it'd probably be just as effective as pointing her finger and shouting "Bang!". Even when new, it would have been a peashooter, and now, worn and old, the only efficient way to use it as a weapon would be to grab the barrel and club someone over the head with the stock.

Leaning on the picket fence, her headache at a mercifully all-time low, En watched as Sunny lit a halogen spot and pointed it at the wooden bench, then walked to the target and set a few empty sarsaparilla bottles against it. Then she marched back to the wall of her house, turned around and took aim. And sure enough, when she pulled the trigger, the weapon fired. Not that En had doubted that for even a fraction of a second. With a wooden _twock_, the .22LR bullet impacted the wood, missing the first bottle by a few centimetres. The second shot was true, however, and the yellow-glass bottle was blown into shards. The third shot hit the second bottle, smacking the neck off and sending the rest falling over and rolling to the ground. She missed two more, but the last bottle was obliterated with the sixth shot. Not bad shooting from that distance, En had to acknowledge. And with that awful gun! Bottles were tiny targets after all, and shooting was by no means as easy as it was portrayed to be in the movies. Still, it all looked a little hasty to her, probably Sunny trying to impress the sixteen-year-old. If she'd taken her time to aim, she probably wouldn't have missed that many.

"You wanna give it a try?" Sunny said, holding out the rifle to her.

"Uh… yeah, sure." It seemed impolite to refuse. The thing was a piece of crap, but she supposed some harmless bottle-shooting was probably a good way to tell if her coordination and concentration were still intact. She pushed herself off the fence and took the rifle from Sunny. She'd never owned a gun, but that didn't mean she'd never fired one. When her parents weren't looking, of course. In fact, she considered it her responsibility to test all the guns she'd repaired before giving them back to their owners. It was just good service. And if was fun, of course.

She shouldered the rifle and took aim. See, what Sunny did wrong was to want to be too fast. And if you wanted to be too fast, or if you were nervous, or didn't have your fingers under control, you missed. Trigger action. Exerting force on the trigger makes your aim go off. Sure, it was less pronounced in weapons you held with two hands, because you had the other hand to steady the gun, but it was still there. But it was most noticeable when people fired one-handed weapons – which was incidentally the reason En thought checkered-suit had only taken off part of her skull and not her entire brain with it. Trigger action was definitely the one thing that made shooting so damn difficult, even from very close distances.

Lining up her sights, she took aim at the bottle, a few centimetres above it, because bullets dropped from gravity as they travelled – another thing about shooting most people didn't stop to think about. Exerting steady force on the trigger (never jerk!), she waited for the shot to go off, and when it did, the bottle flew apart with a loud, protesting _clink_!

"Nice," Sunny acknowledged, having taken En's place leaning on the fence.

Calmly, En took aim and shattered another bottle.

"Okay, so it wasn't a fluke." Seemed like it stung just a little to say it. "Going for the hat trick?"

Her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and one eye closed, En muttered, "I never go for less."

And indeed, with a dry crack, the bullet left the Model 52E's barrel and found the neck of the third bottle. Looking genuinely impressed, Sunny applauded. "Nice shooting, missy!"

En took an overdramatic bow. Lowering her head seemed to make the pain all collect in her skull. Best not do that too often.

"A bit slow on the trigger, though."

En shrugged. "Shooting fast is useless if you don't hit anything."

With a nod, Sunny acknowledged, "True, true, but taking careful aim is useless if the other guy hits you before you can fire."

En had to admit that was true. "Yeah. Depends on the situation, I s'pose. What time is it?"

"Uh… should be around ten."

With a smirk, En said, "Then could I trouble you with the request of just knocking on doc Mitchell's door and telling him I fixed your old twenty-two in three minutes?"

"Now, now," Sunny scolded. "No one likes a show-off." But with a grin, she took back her rifle and stepped through the opening in her picket fence, motioning for Cheyenne to follow her. The dog got up obediently, and went to follow at her heel.

"Three minutes," En called after her. "Not four."

Putting her hands to her mouth, Sunny shouted back, "Show-off!"

En turned off the halogen spot with her foot (no sense draining the car battery Sunny had hooked up to it if no one was going to use the range) and decided to take a little evening stroll around the old village of Goodsprings. Her parents knew she'd be away for a long time, and they had no idea of what had happened to her, so they wouldn't be too worried. Well, they were always worried, so just not more than usually. No real reason to go back just yet. And even though her courier job got canceled in a rather brutal way, she did have something she had to do. She was going to find the bastard in the checkered suit and he would tell her why he'd done it. Stealing her package was bad enough, but what he'd done once he had what he wanted, was something she couldn't just leave at that, and she had to know why.

But first, and the doc had been right about that, she had to recover. No point rushing off into the Mojave, a place she'd never been to, without making sure she was fit to deal with the things she'd run into. Plus, she might as well rest for a while, get to know some of the people here. If they were all like Sunny and doctor mole-butt, this would be a very nice town to stay in, indeed. But of course, a town filled with entirely friendly residents would be quite unrealistic indeed.

And if there were any unfriendly people to be found, it would be right there, in the place that had a sign hanging crooked above the door, "PROSPECTOR SALOON." Because all the mean types gathered in the saloon, right? Or maybe that was just some dramatic thinking. Anyway, she supposed taking a look inside and having a coke (the doc would kill her if she ordered anything alcoholic), and meeting some people couldn't be a bad idea, right? Well, maybe it could be, but to Hell with it.

As she opened the door to the saloon, all conversations fell quiet. Or at least, they would've if they'd been going on in the first place. The place was almost deserted, with an unfriendly-looking woman in her thirties behind the bar, and an old wastelander sitting at the bar with a shot of whiskey. The sour-looking woman immediately stopped drying her glass (why did she have to dry glasses if no one was there to drink from them?) and silently set her eyes on the new arrival.

"Uh, hi," En began somewhat uncomfortably. The woman still kept staring, and the old farmer or whatever he was briefly looked up at her, and then resumed his silent study of the whiskey in front of him. Hoo boy. Still, she went to the bar and sat down. "Can I have a coke, please?"

The eyes of the bar woman didn't go off her, even when she turned around and took a bottle of cola from the refrigerator. "Sure, honey." The tone didn't say 'honey' to En. "Twenty caps."

Dang, she'd forgot about that. Her caps had been in her pack when she was shot. Whoops. Then again, the doc owed her a twenty, right? "Um... I don't have anything on me, but doc Mitchell will take care of it."

The eyes narrowed. "_Doc Mitchell_ has taken care of plenty already, at least when it concerns _you_." She paused for effect, then added, "Don't you think?"

Whoa, that was taking a bit much liberty. "Uh... If you mean saving my life and fixing me up, then yeah, he's done a lot, and I fully intend to do whatever I can to pay him back. But I don't see how that's any business of yours. Those twenty caps he owes me come from a bet he lost. And I'm sure he won't mind paying."

"Well, then you can wait _after_ he paid you to get your drink," the woman said adamantly, swiping the cola bottle back off the counter.

"Geez, Trudy, don't be such a grouch," the old villager drawled, knocking his whiskey back. "Refill me, and give the young lady a coke on me, alright?"

Clearly not enjoying it in the least, the woman apparently called Trudy put the cola back on the counter, then pocketed the villager's caps and poured him another whiskey. Even though she didn't feel obligated to in the least, En still decided to make an attempt at diplomacy. "Hey, I understand that not everybody likes a new person coming into a town and turning the place upside-down. But believe me, ma'am, I didn't ask to get shot. If it were up to me, I'd be on the way back from New Vegas with my package delivered and my pay in my pocket. Wasn't me who decided differently."

The woman leaned over the bar towards En, while the old settler followed the conversation intently. "Listen, miss. I may not be as worldly as you Californians are, and I may just have come from a family of world-estranged travelers, but there's one thing I _do_ know. Someone gets put on her knees and executed with a single point-blank shot to the head, then that person was involved in some dirty business."

"Look, I'm not – "

"And whether or not you were a conscious part of that dirty business, that doesn't matter. What matters is, dirty business always finds its way back, and dirty business will soon be knocking at our door, sniffing you out, and anyone else who's involved in dirty business, whatever it is."

She sure liked saying 'dirty business' a lot. And while En could perhaps _tenuously_ understand the woman's feelings, it was still a bit extreme to blame a robbed courier for all problems, past and future. Crime was still the fault of the people who were criminals, not the ones who got involved in it against their will – especially not victims. Still, this woman probably had a lot of clout in this village, and En figured it wise to be a bit cautious.

"I understand how you feel," she said, draining the cola and getting up from her bar stool, "but I didn't come here to take abuse. I haven't done anything to you people, except perhaps inconvenience you slightly by getting so inconsiderately shot in the head close to your town. Believe me, I'm not involved in anything shady, I was robbed during a simple, perfectly legal courier job. I don't even know why they tried to execute me, but I assure you it wasn't because I was doing anything criminal." Clapping the empty cola bottle on the bar, she concluded, "So that means I don't have to apologize or feel guilty towards _you_."

The woman resumed drying her glass, her eyes still on En, but said nothing.

"Girl's right, Trudy," the old bearded villager merely said. "Can't judge her if you don't know what happened up there on that hill."

"That's alright," En said. "I can't blame people for being a bit suspicious when someone gets dragged in with a hole in the head. But thanks for the benefit of the doubt, Mr...?"

"Pete," the old man told her. "People call me Easy Pete."

With a nod, En introduced herself. "En Tessara."

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, and I'm sure Trudy will be too once she gets to know you, Anne."

Yup, another winner. "It's not Anne. It's En. Ee-en."

"Right," the old man said, hopefully getting it. "Short for something?"

Geez. These people were all lucky she could see the humor in it every time. With a chuckle, she said, "No. Just En."

"Sit back down, hun," Easy Pete invited, extending his hand to her bar stool. "And tell Trudy and myself here all about what happened to you, and what kind of animals would shoot such an adorable girl in the head."

She was inclined to accept, but she didn't want to sit at the bar of a woman who didn't want her there, so she looked at Trudy first. Her mouth narrowed to a stripe, the bar woman finally said, "I suppose Pete's right. I can't judge you before I know what happened." And grudgingly, she added, "I apologize for the suspicion, it's just... I have my reasons."

That's all En needed to hear. She hadn't enjoyed the treatment she'd gotten when she'd come in, true, but everyone had a history, and everyone had been marked by things that had happened in their lives. And just as this Trudy woman didn't have the right to judge En, so did En not have the right to judge this woman – who knows what kind of processes in her mind had led her to be so suspicious? So the apology settled it, as honest apologies always did for En.

She went back to the bar stool and sat down. "I... don't have any money on me though, that OK?"

Surprisingly, Trudy smiled and put down another coke, uncapping it. "That's alright. I'm sure you'll settle things later."

En nodded. "That I promise."

"Sides," the old bearded man said, "In medieval times, people could pay for their drinks at the inn by singing songs or sharing stories."

"Ugh," En let out. "Don't remind me about medieval times."

The old man blinked, not understanding.

"My uh, my parents are historians," En explained. "I love them with all my heart, but their field of interest just isn't mine. I mean, sure, history's interesting and useful and all, but – "

"At your age," Easy Pete finished with an understanding smile, "history, war stories, politics, all that old guy stuff just doesn't seem all that relevant. You're busy with the here and now, and more importantly, the future, right?"

Whoa. It was very rare that a man Pete's age could appreciate the impatience of youth. "That's right," En said, genuinely amazed. "I mean, I get that it's all important, just... not right now."

Wistfully, Pete sighed, "Ah, to have that carefree spirit again."

A short silence fell.

"So," Trudy broke it. "You were going to tell us about what happened to you?"

"Right," En said, lifting her coke to her conversation partners. "The courier job."


	4. Living With Determination

**FOUR**

**Goodsprings**

**June 24th**

**23:11**

"I got another one, I got another one," En said through her guffawing. Her head pounded like a monster, but she was telling jokes, and to Hell with her head. A few people had come in since Trudy had 'accepted' her, most talking among themselves, some sitting alone at the bar and listening in on the jokes. The entire saloon had transformed from an empty, boring old dive into a smoke-filled, cosy bar. Right, her joke. "Alright, alright, how can you tell if a cop's gay?"

Easy Pete was hiccuping, tears in his eyes, and Trudy was grinning despite herself as well.

"If he's got flies buzzing around his nightstick."

Pete roared with laughter. The joke itself wasn't that good, but En supposed the alcohol in the man's system helped him find everything funny. And Trudy was probably more amused at Pete's hilarity than the actual jokes. Still, they were having fun. And no one took offence to some politically incorrect joking. En always thought you had to be able to joke about everything. Making jokes about acceptable topics and not about sensitive ones was hypocritical, and besides, making jokes about something didn't mean you lacked respect. She had nothing against gay people ('some of my best friends are gay' and all that), but that didn't mean she couldn't crack a joke about them. And Easy Pete clearly thought the same way, because En had made quite a few black-guy jokes too, and he'd laughed heartily at all of them.

"Awrite, awrite, my turn," Pete giggled, motioning for another refill. "Why does a blonde always have empty bottles in her fridge?"

The sound of a door closing interrupted the joke. Sunny stood in the doorway, Cheyenne panting next to her. En, for one, was glad to see her. Be nice to have a drink with her and have some fun. Because even in the short time she'd spent with her, En had developed a lot of respect for this woman, with her useless rifle and her stupendously well-trained dog.

With a grin, Sunny sat down next to En and finished, "In case she haves people over and they don't want anything to drink."

Pete let rip with another bout of laughter, slapping his hand on the bar, cackling with mirth at his own stupid joke.

"Hey, don't look at me," Sunny said hastily. "I just know the joke, I didn't come up with it." She motioned at Trudy for a bottle of beer.

Quietly, so Pete couldn't hear, En told Sunny, "He's been making lame-ass jokes like that all night."

Leaning with her back on the bar, her elbows on the wood, she took a swill of her beer. "Hey, sweetie, I know I'm not your mom, but are you sure it's a good idea to hang around in the bar so late? It might be best to get back."

She was having fun, but she supposed Sunny was right. Then again, she felt strangely privileged to actually have this woman even talking to her. "I was actually hoping we could have a drink and get to know each other a little better?"

Sunny's smile looked genuine. "I'd love to, hun, but you need to think of your health first. And doc Mitchell's. He's asleep now, but he'll have a heart attack when he hears you've been out so late."

"Yeah, I know. You're right. Guess I'll hit the sack."

"There'll be more occasions. Go on, get to bed."

Of course, when she got up, Easy Pete immediately protested, "Aww, you're not goin' already, are you? And we were just getting' to know each other!"

"Yeah, I uh... I should be heading back." She pointed at the red-stained bandage on her head, still looking like a ludicrous beanie. "I'm still recovering and all."

He wiped away a guffawing tear. "Alright, sweetheart. Gotta take care of yourself when you're on the mend."

"That's right," Sunny scolded. "No irresponsible behaviour on my watch." Playfully, she made to kick En on the backside. "Move it, young lady."

En had loved to stay longer, especially as she closed the door behind her and heard the music, the voices and the laughter still inside, muffled, but still there. Ah well. Sunny had been right, best to head for bed, if only to spare Mitchell's heart.

She sighed, stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dirty leather jacket and started walking. Despite her disappointment at having to leave the bar, the cold evening air felt nice on her face. What didn't feel good was the throbbing in her lower belly. Damn it, those three cokes had gone straight to her bladder. That meant it was pee-time again. Her favourite moment of the day.

Wait a minute. About twenty or thirty metres next to doc Mitchell's house was a small, dilapidated old Poseidon Energy gas station, and some dude was sneaking around there, looking extremely suspicious. Mitchell would probably throw a fit if he heard about it, but if it was suspicious, she had to check it out. The guy could be a burglar, or even a murderer. Because didn't this town have trouble with a bunch of escaped criminals or something? He disappeared behind the building, holding a duffel bag. En carefully, and as quietly as possible, hustled up the hill to the gas station, staying out of sight.

"Freeze!"

Shit. God dammit he'd noticed her and gone around the building.

"Kindly don't move, or I'll blow your head off." Yeah, sure, because her head hadn't been through enough already. "You one of those Powder fuckers? Don't lie!" The voice was harsh and determined, but also noticeably nervous.

"I don't even know what powder fuckers are. Doesn't sound all that appealing either," En answered calmly, even though her heart beat hard in her chest (and her head!).

"Wait a minute," the voice said slowly. "You're not that kid that got shot up on Goodsprings Cemetery, are you?"

"Matter of fact, I am," En grunted. "And now that you know who I am, mind if I turn around so I know who's pointing a gun at me?"

There was the sound of a weapon being holstered. "Yes, of course. Sorry 'bout that, I'm just a little on edge."

"So am I," En told the man as she turned around. "But then, I got shot in the head, so I may be hallucinating all of this."

The man let out a short laugh. He was in his mid-thirties, not bad looking, she supposed, but a bit too well-groomed. His hair was neatly parted to one side, his shirt immaculately clean and buttoned all the way to the top, and his brown leather vest looked brand new. "Miss, for all I know, I could be dead and hallucinating too."

Right. A self-proclaimed kindred spirit. "Don't see any skull fragments missing on you?"

He took out a diligently polished silver whiskey flask and held it out to her. When she made a declining gesture with her hand, he nodded. "Right. No alcohol for injured folks. Mind if I have some?"

En shrugged.

The man took a generous swill, grimacing from the burning liquid in his throat, and said, "I was pretty close to dying myself. Though not as close as you were, obviously." He spoke very articulately, his pronunciation far more cared-for than most.

"Any closer than I was would mean having your brains used for wall decoration. What happened?"

He sat down on a fallen gas pump, taking care to wipe all the sand and dust off it first. "Caravan got attacked by powder fuckers. I was the only survivor." With a sigh, he added, "Tina and Chipper, they… didn't make it." He hoisted his flask slightly before taking another, more modest and dignified sip.

"I see. But why so jumpy now? They didn't come after you, so you should be fine, right?"

"Actually," the man sighed, "They did. They know I'm here, and they want me dead." _Right_, this must be the refugee that the villagers kept hidden from those escaped convicts. No wonder he was a bit tense.

Still, he should be pretty safe here, right? En shrugged again. "Can't reach you here, can they?"

"Not out in the open, no. But they can coerce the people of this town into telling them where I'm hiding and turning me over. And they're doing a pretty good job of it. Making threats, spooking people. Set fire to Chet's place too. Well, they tried. Couldn't even do that right. Amateurs."

En frowned, not understanding. "And those powder fuckers are… who, exactly?"

"Ah yes, forgive me. Not my habit to use expletives. It's actually Powder Gangers. Criminals that got locked up in NCRCF, prison facility a ways Southeast of here. They revolted, killed or drove off the guards, and seized the prison. Now they're terrorizing the countryside, so to speak."

"And why are they called Powder Gangers? Because they have gang-bangs in the powder room?"

Another short laugh. "No, because they primarily use black-powder explosives as weapons. They had to use them during their forced labor, so they know how to handle the stuff." He got up. "But hey, I don't have time for question-hour. I need to keep my head down in this place. I sit out here too long and they'll spot me."

"Alright. So uh, what now?"

He pointed his chin at the gas station. "Now I'm going back to enjoying my wonderfully uncomfortable hiding place." His face scrunched up. "I'm telling you, the hygienic circumstances in there are just _appalling_."

"No, I mean, where are you gonna go from here? As in, you can't stay in there forever."

"Oh. Like that." He looked out over the town of Goodsprings, quiet and dark in the valley below them. "I hate to give these people trouble, so I'll try and sneak out sooner or later. Not right now though, too dangerous."

"Right. Need some help?"

He smiled, baring two rows of even, white, perfect teeth. "Actually, yeah. But don't worry, it's not for right now just yet. But someone getting my back would be nice. Anyway, see you later, miss."

"En."

"Mm?"

"En. It's my name."

"Oh. Right." He held out his hand. "Name's Ringo."

She shook his hand. Groomed as he might be, his hands had the calluses of a man who's worked for his money. "What, like the Beatle?"

He frowned, irritated. "Yes. Like the Beatle. I wish people would stop asking that."

En chuckled. "I know what you mean. Same way I wish people would stop assuming I can't pronounce my own name and that it's actually Anne."

Blinking in confusion, he asked, "Wait. I thought you just _said_ it was Anne?"

She rolled her eyes. Figured. "En. Not Anne."

"Oh, I see." He clearly didn't.

"Ee-en."

Yep, now he got it. "Oh, I see. Sorry. It's not a name you hear very often, is all. Well, not a name that you hear… ever, I suppose."

"Yeah, it's unusual, I know."

"Well," he said with a smile, "It's been good meeting you, miss En."

"And you, mister Ringo."

He tipped an imaginary hat and sneaked off to the gas station. It was probably best to do the same, only to her own temporary place of residence. And En didn't doubt for a moment that an irate doc Mitchell was as dangerous as whole platoon of Powder Gangers.

* * *

><p>Carefully, and as quietly as possible, she opened the door. It was dark inside, but she could hear doc Mitchell from his room, snoring as if he was trying to level a forest. Good. She undid the laces of her boots (argh, that headache when she bent over!) and picked them up, walking on her socks to minimize the noise. She made it to her bed easily enough, but as she sat down on it, one of her boots slipped from her fingers and bonked down on the tiles. She froze instantly. Whoops.<p>

Mitchell snorted, let out an inarticulate gargle, and then kept on snoring. Phew, close one. Her clothes got off in relative silence and the hospital bed creaked only slightly when she lifted her legs onto it. Geez, she felt just like she was coming home – to her real home then – and had to avoid her sleeping parents after a night of drinking at the bar. She didn't drink _much_, mind, but that didn't make the hour any less late. Plus, the new bartender at Cassidy's was kinda sorta totally hot, so she often stayed a bit later than most people. It had been seriously awkward though when his mom, the doctor with the messed-up hand, had taken her aside in the street and asked her if she needed information on birth control. Hoo boy. She was a nice woman, even with the strange aura of sadness she always had around her, but that had been a terribly uncomfortable moment. Just for fun, she wondered to herself what Mrs. Brannigan would think of the sterling work Mitchell had performed on her noggin.

Her thought were broken by a loud, ripping fart from Mitchell's room. Clapping a hand over her face, En strained to keep from laughing. She had no idea people could fart so loud in their sleep, and its volume shattering the silence of the night, combined with the tension of having to sneak into her bed as quietly as possible simply made it impossible for En not to laugh. She did so quietly though, getting into bed and pulling the sheets over her. Still giggling, she laid her head on the pillow and then realized she still had to go to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"What time did you get in last night?" Mitchell asked sourly, pouring himself another cup of coffee.<p>

En stopped brushing her teeth and said, through a mouthful of foamy toothpaste, "Around eleven, I think?" It was a white lie. Victimless crime, right?

"You sure?" he asked, suspicious. "Because I heard you come in and it wasn't eleven."

Nice try, doc, but she wouldn't be so easily fooled. "Heard me come in over your snoring, did you?" En said with a mischievous grin.

Mitchell only harrumphed and looked into his coffee cup, setting it to his lips.

She figured that now she got her strength back, it was time to say some things that shouldn't be left unsaid. "Hey doc?"

"Mm?"

She pulled back one of his old, almost completely de-varnished chairs and sat down next to him, at his old dinner table. "Thank you. For everything. I mean it."

He grunted a short laugh. "That's alright, girlie. You're a handful, but I'm glad I could help you out."

She laid a hand on top of his. "I _really_ mean it. You saved my life. I can't possibly ever repay you, but – "

He laughed again, this time more freely. "Don't worry, girlie. Seein' you up and about is the biggest thanks you can give me." Droplets of coffee stood in the white hairs of his moustache. "No need to talk about repayin' and all that."

"Look, I just wanna say – "

"I know," he interrupted gently. "You don't have to say it. You're a good girl, miss En. And you better believe it does me great pleasure to make sure good people stay in this world."

"Still, what you've done for me is incredible. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, girlie. Coffee?"

He clearly felt uncomfortable being thanked or getting compliments, so En left it alone, hoping he truly did realize how grateful she was. "Yeah, coffee would be nice, thanks."

"That stuff'll kill you," a familiar, friendly voice said in the doorway behind her.

"Hey Sunny," En greeted, turning around so she sat sideways on her chair.

Sunny stuck to a cheerful, "Hiya."

"Good morning, Sunny," Mitchell grunted. "A coffee once in a while won't kill ya."

Sunny sat down at the table, opposite En. "The oceans you drink per day, will."

Unimpressed, Mitchell set En's cup down in front of her. The coffee smelled heavenly. "We'll see how alive you are when you're my age."

All her hair was tied into her tight ponytail, but Sunny still flicked back a lock of imaginary hair. "Die young, stay pretty, doc."

"I prefer dyin' old an' ugly, myself." And scolding, he added, "And I don't approve of all this reckless idealizing of a young death."

"Just joking, doc," Sunny said with a grin. "I aim to live to a peaceful old age, don't you worry."

"So what brings your pestering self to my house, Sunny?" Mitchell asked.

Sunny shifted in her seat and leaned forward on her elbows. "Cobb was here again this morning. Said he wants Ringo by the end of tomorrow, or they'll come and get him." With a look of disgust, she added. "He said he'd be satisfied with just Ringo's head, too."

Mitchell's jaw worked furiously and his hand clenched his coffee cup so hard his fingers went white. "Those damn Powder Ganger bastards. They ain't satisfied with shootin' up two caravan drivers, no let's just kill the third as well!" he shouted. "And why not butcher a whole town while we're at it, just to get to one guy who hasn't even done them any wrong!"

"It's obvious we can't sacrifice the people of this town to keep Ringo out of their hands, but I mean, we can't just hand him over, can we?" It seemed obvious which path Sunny wanted to take. "I mean, we need to do what's right, but seems like it's a lose/lose situation here."

Mitchell breathed in through his nose, thinking.

It might not have been her place, but En said it anyway. "It's obvious what you need to do."

Sunny raised an intrigued eyebrow.

"You need to get everyone together, arm as many people as you can, and kick those fuckers' asses back to powder town."

"No such thing as powder town," Sunny said with a chuckle, "but that's the way I feel too."

"Ain't the way _I_ feel," Mitchell muttered.

"I know, doc, but – " Sunny began.

"If you try to stand up to those bastards, it'll be a blood bath, Sunny. I know you're tryin' to do what's right, but god dammit, none of the people here deserve to die." He rose, agitated, to refill his coffee cup. "And that's _if_ you can actually get everyone to make a stand!"

"If you're convincing enough, you can get anybody to fight for what's right," En merely said. The history of New Arroyo, which was required reading for every child going to school in the town, had shown her that much. People could be inspired to do the right thing, even at great personal cost. It had been a lesson miss Bishop had hammered into every child, whether they liked it or not.

"And imagine you do, huh?" Mitchell snapped, pressing the button on top of the thermos and letting his cup fill. "No way you can hold them back without people gettin' hurt." He pointed a finger of his coffee-cup-holding hand at En. "Girlie, I don't want to see you get dragged into this just because you're all starry-eyed at Sunny's reckless idealism. And you, Sunny, I won't tolerate you abusing the fact that this girl's young and impressionable."

"I may be young," En said with her arms crossed, "But I'm not agreeing to Sunny's plan because I'm impressionable. I'm agreeing because people need to stand up for what's right. Here, and everywhere else. If everyone did, there'd be no more Powder Gangers or Slavers or press gangers."

Mitchell sighed. "I know, girlie, and I understand. But we gotta think of the safety of this town."

"Instead of always thinking about these people's safety," Sunny shot back, "How about thinking of their right to choose?" When Mitchell looked at her, not understanding, she continued, "We're not alone in making this decision. We're not the bosses of this town."

Frowning, Mitchell asked, "You're not thinking of putting this up for a vote, are you?"

"I sure as Hell am."

He raised his hand and let it fall to the table with a loud _bonk_. "Guess there won't be any stoppin' you, will there?"

Determined, Sunny answered, "No. We need to at least discuss this with the people of Goodsprings."

Sighing, Mitchell gave in. "You're right, Sunny. But I don't like how this is gonna turn out."

"Hey um," En asked carefully. "Would you guys mind if I came to that meeting too?"

Mitchell opened his mouth to speak (most likely to say no), but Sunny was faster. "Of course it'll be alright, sweetie. You live here, right?"

"Well… only temporarily."

"Doesn't matter," Sunny said dismissively. "You'll probably still be here when the ball drops, so you have every right to be there."

"There's just not arguin' with you, is there, Alejandra?" doc Mitchell grunted, actually using her full name. He pronounced it 'aleeandra'.

"No, Frank," Sunny said, dead serious. "You know this must be done." She rose, briefly squeezing En's shoulder as she did so. "I'll get everyone ready, tell them we'll all meet at Trudy's in an hour. That okay?"

Mitchell shrugged, "As if you'd be any less determined if I said no."

"This is for the good of all of us, doc."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Let's take change that bandage now, huh?" Mitchell said to En after they'd finished their coffee. Sunny had gone out to gather the people of Goodsprings, leaving the doc and En alone, and one of them had been left in a very sour mood and one of them with the same old never-ending headache.

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

He smiled despite his bad mood. "No, girlie, and I understand why you're both so set on fightin' the good fight. And don't get me wrong, I agree with the sentiment. It's just, at my age, you understand that keepin' people safe is most important. Still, if the people of this town decide they're gonna stand up, then that's what they decide."

"And you don't think I should butt out?" She kinda felt that she should. It wasn't her business after all.

"No, you have every right to say what you think. Now get your crusadin' butt to the bathroom and let's change your bandage."

The injury still felt extremely painful, especially with the bandage around it was tugged or pulled on, and more than once, En had to screw her one eye shut as another stab of pain lanced through the right side of her head.

"Awrite, I'm gonna take the last bit off now. Don't be startled, okay?"

She wasn't really looking forward to seeing the damage, but she supposed, better now than later. "Alright. I'll try not to jump all the way to the ceiling and break my skull even more."

"Atta girl."

And even though she was prepared for something bad, she still reflexively sucked in air, shocked from the damage. Her light brown hair had been shaved away, leaving a big bald patch above her ear. The white skin that was exposed had been torn open, leaving a long, broad, dark red wound, the bloody crust resembling half-coagulated lava. Looked like it would turn to a long, broad swathe of scar tissue. En felt her lip tremble as she saw it, even though she'd said only a day before that it was "just hair". But seeing it drove the reality of it mercilessly home. She'd be disfigured, even though her face had been spared, she'd have an ugly, hairless cratery mass of scar tissue on the side of her head.

"It's… not as bad as it looks," Mitchell attempted, seeing her dismay. "It'll heal over."

"Yeah," En said with a small voice. "It's just… seeing it like that breaks my heart."

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Mine too, girlie. But you live, right?"

Exactly. It was no good being all torn up over a lost bit of hair. "You're right, doc." She turned her head in the mirror. Her short ponytail would look totally wrong with that ugly scar. "I'll need a haircut though."

Mitchell chuckled, applying a smaller piece of gauze to her head, taping it on and then wrapping a narrower bandage around her head so she didn't have the beanie anymore, but a trendy bandanna instead. "I'll wager you do. You can always ask Trudy, she can cut hair." Stroking an imaginary lock on his own bald skull, he added, "Look what a fine job she does on mine."

En struck a rimshot on an imaginary drum kit, making the accompanying "ba-dum-tsh!" sound with her mouth.

* * *

><p>"I think you all know the reason you've been called here," Sunny addressed the townspeople. There were about sixty in all, gathered in the Prospector Saloon. It was a bit of a tight fit, but everyone had a chair and a small speaker's podium allowed people to speak to the gathering without having to shout from between the people. Many of them mumbled among each other in reaction to Sunny's words. "The Powder Gangers, led by our good friend Joe Cobb, have set an ultimatum. They want us to turn Ringo over by the end of tomorrow, or they'll come and get him, by force."<p>

"Let them have him then," a nasal voice called out from the group. "If they come in shooting, there'll be more than just one person dead."

"I know, Chet," Sunny replied. "But you can't honestly expect us to just hand him over? After all the frustration they've had in getting hold of him, they won't be content with just shooting him. You want to condemn an innocent man to death because you're too afraid to stand up and fight?"

"This isn't a fight," the nasal-voiced man apparently called Chet shot back. "It'll be a slaughter. And I'm not dying over outsider problems!"

"Outsider or not – " Sunny began.

"I mean, what is this place these days?" the man called Chet continued, unperturbed. "A charity organization for wounded wastelanders?" He turned his head and let his eyes go over En, sitting in the back of the saloon. "I mean, how many more idiots are gonna show up at our door, half dead because of their own stupidity?"

"Chet, that's enough outta you," Mitchell shouted. "We're here to discuss the problem with the Powder Gangers, not to show the outside world that we're a bunch of inhospitable hicks!"

"Yeah, well, I'm against the 'Goodsprings versus the Powder Gang'-plan," Chet concluded as his last statement. Then he shut up.

En didn't feel all that welcome at the moment.

"I'm against the idea too," Trudy said calmly, rising to address the people of Goodsprings. "As mayor, I simply can't go along with a plan that'll get people killed."

"She's right," another villager said. "Sorry, Sunny, I like you, but I gotta say no too."

That seemed to be the cue for several people to get up and express their agreement.

"People, please," Sunny tried to calm the agitation. "Let's discuss this rationally."

"Ain't nothing to discuss," a burly villager shouted at Sunny. "I ain't dyin' over another guy's problems. Ringo's an alright guy, but he ain't worth getting' a bunch of people killed over. So I ain't playin' along with your movie bullshit. " And before he stomped out, he shouted, "But o' course, don't let that stop ya. You can get your ass blown off by the Powder Gangers all you want, Sunny Wetback."

Hearing someone say such nasty things to someone like Sunny made En clench her teeth with anger. Sunny herself was either too intent on persuading people to notice the slur, or she'd decided to ignore it. "Walking out isn't going to solve anything. Let's talk about this constructively."

But there was no stopping them. When the beefy villager had walked out, they'd risen from their seats as well, and now the saloon emptied, leaving only En, Mitchell, Sunny, Easy Pete, Trudy, and two or three people. And Trudy had most likely remained seated for the sole reason that it was her saloon.

Sunny leaned on the podium and weakly pleaded, "Come on, people. Don't be afraid. If we all unite…" She didn't finish her sentence as the last villager let the door to the saloon fall closed. Disillusioned, she lowered her head.

A painful, long silence fell in the saloon. And during that silence, En felt immensely sorry for the woman standing defeated at the podium.

"I think," Mitchell said hoarsely, "that we should all go home and think for a while. Think on how to solve this."

Sunny raised her head. "You can think. But I'm going to stop those murderous bastards. On my own if I have to."

"Not on your own," En said. It was out before she knew it.

"Young lady – " Mitchell attempted.

"No, doc," she cut him off. "You people saved my life, and I can't sit by while those Powder Gang guys or whatever they are terrorize you all into giving up an innocent man."

"So that's why I've gone through all the trouble of saving your life, girlie?" Mitchell asked her, upset. "So you can go get shot by these animals?"

"No," En retorted. "So I can do good things."

Mitchell sighed and shook his head.

"I'm an old, worthless fossil," Easy Pete said hoarsely. "But I can still shoot a gun. Sunny, my dear, I ain't gonna leave you hangin'. You've done so much for this town, an' it's a shame this town doesn't wanna do anything back."

Visibly moved, Sunny said, "Thanks, you two."

Another villager nodded, "I'm with you guys. You gotta be willin' to die for something…"

"… or you'll live for nothing," the other villager that had remained, completed.

"I'm against you people throwing yourself in front of those Powder Gangers' bullets," Mitchell said, "but I ain't gonna sit by while you guys fight for your lives either. I can't shoot worth shit, but any one of you goes down, I'll be right there to save his life." And with an accusing glance at En, he added, "Or her life."

"I still think it's a stupid plan," was all that Trudy contributed.

Sunny ignored her. "We need to make sure that if we fail, they spare the village." Biting a fingernail, she wondered, "I'm not sure how we can do that."

"Easy," En said. "If they have Ringo, they'll leave the town alone, right? Then we stop them before they can make it to town."

"Okay, but they'll still go for Ringo. So that doesn't solve the problem," one of the villagers pointed out.

"Yes it does. They'll stop for two reasons," En explained. "One, they're dead. And two, we're dead and they've got Ringo."

"Yeah?"

The solution to that problem really _was_ easy. "Whether we win or lose, the village will be spared. Because Ringo will be right there, winning or losing with us."

"Right," Sunny understood. "We just need to get Ringo to fight with us. I'm sure that won't be difficult."

"Even with Ringo," Mitchell cautioned, "You'll still be going up against terrible odds."

It was then En realized she didn't know how big that group of Powder Gangers actually was. "What _are_ the odds, actually?"

"Well, there's Joe Cobb," Sunny told her. "And at least ten more, from what I've seen. Most have guns."

"Not exactly a fair fight," doc Mitchell pointed out for good measure. "And we've got no decent defensive tools. Sunny's got her rifle, Pete's got his lever-action, and I got my old laser shooter. But that's all."

This was where En could be invaluable to the group, and she knew it. "If I had the right things to work with, I could make some things to defend us with."

"What, you're gonna build guns?" one of the villagers asked cynically.

"_No_," she bit back, annoyed. "But stuff like mines, traps, tripwires, all of those things."

Easy Pete seemed intrigued. "What kind of things would you be needing, sweetheart?"

Good question. "Uh… some explosives, springs, switches, wires, pointy things, stuff like that."

With a mysterious face, Easy Pete said, "Come on over to my place in a bit. I've got some stuff that might help."

"Which reminds me," doc Mitchell said, suddenly cheerful. "I still owe you." He dug in his pocket and tossed En a plastic bag with twenty caps.

Easy Pete had some stuff that might help, indeed! The garage of his house was nothing short of a dragon's hoard for the amateur handyman. En had to breathe an awed, "Whoa," when she saw it all. There were tables and tables loaded with parts, junk, broken electronics, devices, disassembled machines, batteries, wiring, and everything else. It was like a playground! Her pounding headache temporarily forgotten, she let her eyes go over the unending amount of playthings, feeling positively giddy.

"An' here's the best bit," Pete said, bending over to pick up a wooden box from under one of the tables. "Gotta handle with care though." With a laboured grunt, he carefully placed the box on one of the few free spaces on the table, then pressed his hands against the small of his back, letting out a short, relieved groan. The letters on the wood said, "EXPLOSIVES".

"Can you work with that without blowing yourself up, sweetie?" Sunny asked, more than a bit concerned.

"If it hasn't sweated too much, then yeah. Can make some pretty impressive fireworks with that." She wasn't an explosives expert, but she knew enough to handle it safely. The pair of walkie-talkies a few tables further, combined with the industrial blasting caps and the plastic power socket cover her eyes fell on, would make for something very nice indeed. And wait a minute? Was that a rusty bear trap? Lovely. And the large railroad spikes, the assortment of springs, and the barbecue grill seemed to be calling to each other across the tables too. And look at that: an old crossbow, just _dying_ to be combined with that long, thin electrical wire, that big fission battery and those two little things stuck in that dart board, with that laser anti-burglar system completing the picture. "Little lady," Pete said cheerfully, "from the look in your eyes, I can tell that something beautiful is growing between you and my junk tables."

She realized she'd been grinning for a while already, and could say nothing else than, "Oh, boy, I'm going to have _so much_ fun with this_."_


	5. Words Interrupted by Fireworks

**FIVE**

**Goodsprings**

**June 25th**

**11:28**

En had picked up her tools at doc Mitchell's place and headed straight back to Easy Pete's garage. Despite the urgency of the situation, she was childishly happy to be able to put stuff together again. Taking it apart was just as much fun, of course, but right now, she needed to get things ready to help in the defense of Goodsprings. And she had plenty of ideas. It was funny, if she saw parts, ideas immediately popped into her head on what to do with them. She didn't even have to think, it was as if the parts simply spoke to her and told her what they wanted to become, with her just as the hands making it happen.

"Need a hand, sweetheart?" Sunny asked, coming to sit next to her. Cheyenne panted on her leg by means of greeting.

"No, no, I'm fine," En said reflexively, being used to declining the help of people who were nice to offer, but who only made things worse. "But I don't mind the company?" she added hastily, because even in the short time she'd been in Goodsprings, Sunny was one of the people she'd come to look up to. She was pretty, strong, independent, and still managed to be really friendly and down-to-earth at the same time. And spending time with her made En feel like Sunny's good qualities rubbed off on her. Or something like that.

"Alright, but can't stay long."

"Cool."

"So, whatcha doin'?"

En didn't mind explaining her work at all, in fact, it was a nice opportunity to show off her skills. Humbly of course. "Right now I'm making a spike trap, see?" She held up the barbecue grill with a hole cut in the middle. A plate below it had a spike embedded in it, with a spring and a release mechanism built between the grill and the plate. When she pressed the plate and the grill together, the railroad spike shot up through the hole in the grill, driving its point upward with impressive force.

Sunny made a pained grimace. "Anyone who steps on that won't be dancin' the salsa anytime soon."

Grinning, En agreed, "Oh no."

"And you just made that all on your own?" Sunny asked, looking awed. "Just like that?"

"M-hm. There's loads of stuff here you can work with."

Sunny looked around the room. "You got that right. Loads of stuff is a good way to describe it. What a dump."

"Not a dump," En countered quickly. "A lot of this stuff is incredibly valuable if you know what to do with it."

"I suppose," Sunny simply said. Then, extending her hand toward the device built around the old crossbow, she asked, "And what's this?"

"_Don't_ touch it!" En snapped.

Sunny froze in mid-movement. "Uh… okay?"

"Sorry, it's just, well…" she pointed to the big fission battery hooked up to the crossbow. "You don't want to get a jolt of _that_."

"I… imagine I don't. What's it for?"

Smiling mysteriously, En only parted with, "You'll see."

"Fine, be that way," Sunny said with a grin. "Keep me curious. But hey, sweetie, you got a second?"

En stopped working. "Of course, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," she assured. "But… if this whole take-a-stand thing goes wrong, and something happens to me – "

"Nothing's gonna happen to you," En interrupted. Surely people like Sunny weren't the kind that were easily killed.

"But in the event that it does," Sunny continued, unperturbed, "you'll want to go after the man that shot you, right?"

"I… guess so. Haven't made up my mind about that yet." Somewhat apologetically, she clarified, "I've been wondering if it wouldn't be safer and better to leave it alone."

"Well, regardless what you decide, I gotta make sure I tell you everything before the shooting starts. Though there really isn't much to tell on my end."

En guessed that made sense. "Okay, I'm listening?"

"I only helped haul you back to Mitchell's place, but it was Victor who actually found you."

Oh right. That Victor character she'd heard of before. She'd forgotten all about him. "Right. So I should go see this Victor?"

Sunny nodded, resting her elbows on her knees. "Yeah. Best do it as soon as possible, while you still can."

"Sure. Where's he live?" She could spare half an hour to investigate her own death, she supposed.

Sunny jerked her head to the East. "Small shack just a ways further. Don't be surprised if he's not too helpful though. He's got his… quirks."

"Right."

* * *

><p>Small shack just a ways further. The only small shack En saw that didn't belong to a house, was the tiny, rickety shed that looked like it would fall apart if someone even so much as looked at it too intently. Probably Victor's place. She imagined him as a dirty, unwashed, skinny, bearded vagabond traipsing around bare-footed, talking gibberish to passers-by. She didn't know why, but she did.<p>

But the figure standing in front of the shack, as if he was keeping watch, didn't walk around bare-footed. He didn't walk, and didn't have any feet. Victor stood on a single tyre, with a trapezoid metal body balancing on top of it, flanked by two vacuum-hose-like arms ending in unwieldy-looking prehensile tools. In the center of the metal body was a shoebox-sized television screen that, for some completely weird reason, displayed the stylized, cartoony head of a comic book cowboy, complete with hat and kerchief. Okay, so Victor was a robot. How quaint.

En opened her mouth to address the bucket of bolts, but it 'spoke' first, drawling through its speaker. "Well howdy pardner! You look like you're up-and-about already! Ain't that a pleasin' sight!"

En had never heard a robot communicating like that, and to be honest, she was glad they didn't all speak this way. Not only was the cowboy-accent completely unconvincing, but the voice was very thin and sharp-sounding, and extremely obnoxious.

"You're Victor, right?" En was never polite or friendly to robots. Not out of malice, but where was the sense in it? They were machines, responding to input with preset lines of code. And no matter how complex their communication was, it all came down to that: input provoking a hard-coded reaction. A wise man had once said, 'if you cannot linguistically differentiate a person from a computer, can the computer be internally conscious?', well, En knew the answer to that question. Take the thing apart and it's nothing but chips and wires. Metal, polymer and plastic, unable to have feelings, no matter how well they were programmed. So being polite was simply wasted on them.

"That's right, pardner," the robot drawled in its annoying, thin voice. "At yer service. And I must say, you're looking mighty better than you did when I hauled you out of that grave."

"Yeah, about that. I need to know everything you saw."

"Sure thing, pardner," the machine exclaimed in 'cheerful'-mode. "Saw you get shot in the face, sittin' on your knees, on top of the graveyard hill there. Three people, two hombres, one jezebel. They were packin' some serious iron."

"One with a checkered suit, right?"

"Damn straight, pardner. Now Victor, he ain't yellow, but one against three, that's just bad odds, see what I mean?"

If the moron that had programmed this rust heap hadn't added in useless self-preservation protocols, then she might have been spared the hole in the head. "Yeah, well. Graveyard hill, you say?"

"What I said, pardner. Right up over yonder." His odd pincers pointed at a hill overlooking Goodsprings, half a kilometer back, with headstones and crosses dotting it.

En looked back at the hill, her hands in her back pockets, and then back to Victor. "Right." Ah, but wait. This junk box could be useful. "Victor, there's bandits going to attack this town. Any chance you can help us out during the fighting?"

Still irritatingly enthusiastic, the robot drawled, "Right as rain, pardner. I'll be there to put the hurt on them rustlers."

He'd probably be completely useless, but what the Hell. "Tomorrow evening, around six. On the road leading east out of the village."

"You got it, pardner. Count on Victor to give them varmints what-for."

"Yeah."

Graveyard Hill was worth checking out. After all, the people that shot her probably hadn't taken the possibility into account that their victim might rise from the dead, so they most likely had been careless about leaving evidence. Finding her own grave would be easy, she just had to look for the bloodstains and recently displaced earth.

The hike itself took almost all the strength out of her legs, and she was panting from the exertion by the time she'd made it up the hill. Her head pounded so hard she had to close one eye, and the nausea had come back after a short while of relative absence. She supported herself on a headstone, bent over and caught her breath. Man, this crap had better improve soon. Taking a last deep breath, she raised her head again and her eyes immediately fell on the place where they'd shot her, coloured red beneath a dramatic sunset. A shallow grave had been dug up, bloodstains had spattered against a nearby headstone, at the foot of a stone cross lay a length of rope, still twisted, and a linen bag, of which En had only seen the interior. This was where they'd put her on her knees, set a gun to her head and shot her. Heartless bastards. And Victor had been right. It had been two men and a woman. But remembering their faces was impossible, at least for now. A single tyre track led to the grave, and back out again, being joined a ways further by the prints of Sunny's boots. And indeed, three pairs of foot prints could be made out, standing where her killers had stood on that evening. One was a pair of heavy Caterpillar boots (she recognized the logo from the print), another were the soles of men's dress shoes, no logo print though, and the third were slender but rugged women's boots, those high, narrow ones with the bulky soles. Goth boots. But on their own, all those things did nothing more than assure her she was in the right spot.

But wait, what was that? Cigarette butts? Dammit, that's right. The man in the checkered suit had flicked away a cigarette before shooting her. It wasn't much, but everything she could find narrowed down her search, and knowing what brand of smokes her killer used was at least _one_ way to make her search less hopeless. She picked up the cigarette butt, shuddering at the touch. They were his alright. She turned it in front of her eyes, hoping to see a brand name, and yep, sure enough, in flowing letters just above the filter stood the brand name "Distinctive". En had never heard of the brand (though she wasn't an expert on cigarettes), so that was a good sign. The rarer the brand, the fewer people smoked it, right?

She stuffed the cigarette butt in her pocket, shuddering again as the thing came so uncomfortably close to her genitals, and continued her search. She knew there was at least one more useful clue to be found. And there it was, shining in the dull, brown earth, the setting sun reflecting on its copper body. Picking it up between her two fingers, En inspected the empty 9mm casing the same way she'd looked at the cigarette butt. Most ammunition these days were reloaded casings, and the hand loader often imprinted his name on the casing. But no luck now. This casing was an actual factory-made one, of the Federal brand. Still, a man carrying ammunition out of the original box was probably someone with money, something the checkered suit already made to suspect.

The rest of the search yielded nothing, and disappointed, En had to give up. The tracks of the people that had shot her had gone on to the North for several hundred meters, then they had stopped, making a lot of overlapping imprints as the feet that made them shifted, and then they'd gone their separate ways, the man and woman heading West, and the expensive shoes going East, both trails going cold on the rocks a ways further. The place where they'd stopped was probably where Checkers had handed over the money. And as she stood on that place, her eye fell on a small piece of paper that had gotten caught in one of the low, dry bushes. She bent over and picked up the picture of her parents. At least, half of it.

The bastards had taken her wallet, fished out the valuables and just thrown the rest away. Not just that, they'd carelessly and negligently torn the only photograph in her wallet in two and dropped it to the ground, most likely simply out of the habit of tearing things in two that one no longer needed. Her teeth clenched, En glared at the photograph of her parents, both beheaded by the bisection of the paper, and at that point, realized that the only right thing to do now was to find the respectless animals that had shot her and just thrown her personal possessions to the wind, as if she wasn't even worth that little respect, and make them answer. And maybe even make them pay.

After a long search, she'd given up on trying to find the other half of the photo, and with so much time wasted, she didn't feel right turning in already. Sighing, she turned on the light in Easy Pete's garage, sat down and went back to work. Normally tinkering with stuff helped put her mind at ease, but not now. The photo of her parents was just a photo, and her parents were alive and well back in New Arroyo, so all it took was to make a new photo when she got back, but it was the complete disregard for her as a person, dying in a shallow grave with a hole in her head, that made it so infuriating. The fact that those people didn't even care that she had a family who loved her, a life full of hopes, dreams and all those other things that made a person unique, and that they'd taken all that away just to get the job done, that made her boil inside. If she'd died there, no one would have known, and her parents would have to live in doubt and uncertainty for the rest of their lives. Her head pounded.

Picking up her pliers, and the wiring she'd been attaching to one of the walkie-talkies, she decided to stop feeling angry and to do something useful instead. Sleep washed over her though, and she permitted herself to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes.

* * *

><p>"Oh thank God," the panicky man's voice woke her from a dreamless sleep. Oh shit, she'd fallen asleep. What time was it? Oh man, the headache!<p>

"Girlie, do you have any idea how much you got me worried!" doc Mitchell hollered at her. "I wake up to find your bed empty, and the one person in town who's seen you last is that worthless Victor, and he told me you'd gone up to Graveyard Hill! On your own!"

"I was just – "

"You had me worried sick, girlie!"

En opened and closed her mouth a few times to get rid of the dryness (it didn't work), and croaked, "Sorry. I thought I'd work on these things for a few more minutes, but I must've fallen asleep."

"Yeah." Mitchell barked back. "You must have."

"Sorry."

With a weary sigh, Mitchell threw himself down on the chair next to her. "Yeah, it's alright. Just had me worried. Girlie, you can't just take off like that and not let people know. I thought somethin'd happened to you."

"No no, I'm okay. Just went to see if I could find something to point me to the guy who shot me. What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning."

Shit. That late! And she still had a few things to build. "Doc, thanks for checking in on me, and I'm sorry to get you worried, but I really need to work on this stuff, because if I don't get enough things done by six o'clock tonight, those powder gangers are going to do a number on us."

Mitchell didn't seem ready to let it go just yet, but mentioning the powder gangers and the danger everybody would be in if they didn't get their defenses ready in time seemed to be enough to make Mitchell abandon the tirade he was about to start. "Alright, I'll let you work. But if you pull a stunt like that again, I'll feed you the bandage wrapped around your head, got it?"

She guessed he had a point. "Got it."

She'd have to kick herself in gear to get everything done. The crossbow device was done, but untested, she had two spike traps ready, but she still had to start work on the bear trap, and the crowning piece of her building spree was only a quarter done. She didn't even hear Mitchell close the door as she avidly began work on the bear trap.

Several hours later, it was all done. And a good thing it was, too. The clock on the wall in Easy Pete's garage read ten minutes to five. Shit, only ten minutes left, not counting set-up. Now the reality of it actually began to sink in. In a few minutes the people in this town would be fighting for their lives, and she with them. She'd never seen anyone get shot before, but she'd been told it wasn't pretty. She closed her eyes for a short moment to explicitly hope that Sunny and the others would survive the day unharmed. And, she realized, a lot would depend on her gadgets. She hadn't had time to test the crossbow, so it'd have to work. Loading it with a regular arrow would have been pointless, or at least, what she'd done to it would be far more effective.

"En, you ready, sweetie?"

She took a breath and said, without turning around, "Guess I'll have to be, Sunny."

"Gee, that's encouraging."

Right. No room for doubt at a moment like this. "I'm ready, Sunny. This stuff may not look like much, they've got some surprises waiting for them."

"Well, that spike trap didn't look like much either, but it sure made me wince seeing it work. Come on, I'll help you carry."

After quickly listening to Ringo's sincere expression of thanks, repeated over and over again, and seeing doc Mitchell and easy Pete take cover behind a dumpster, with the two villagers she didn't know hunkering down behind an ancient car wreck, En took off to prepare the road to Goodsprings and thin out the Powder Gangers as much as possible. The people of Goodsprings numbered six, herself not included, and the Powder Gangers were at least ten, and much better armed. She'd have to take out a lot of them with her traps alone, and she'd have to place the heaviest hitter first, so it could do the most damage before they realized the road had been booby-trapped and became more wary. Their biggest weakness would be that they thought they'd be going up against a bunch of cowering villagers armed only with sticks and stones. So she'd have to use that weakness to its full effect, taking out as many as possible before they realized it wouldn't be a cakewalk, and therefore overcome their weakness.

The crowning piece of her tinkering spree went dead in the centre of the road, tucked away in a pothole. It wouldn't be invisible, but it wasn't completely exposed either. Unwary approachers would walk right into it. She darted back to the place Sunny and the others had chosen to defend from, picked up her spike traps, and went back to the road. No time to mind the pounding headache. Drawing an imaginary line from the half-buried package to the nearest cover, she tucked away one of the spike traps between two stones right in that path. She did the same on the other side of the road. The bear trap was hidden beneath the sand a few metres behind the main package. Finally, she mounted the crossbow device behind the sign saying "welcome to Goodsprings", aiming it at the road next to it.

"Okay, I'm ready," she told the others, who had thankfully not touched the walkie-talkie, as she'd expressly forbidden them to.

Sunny gave a curt nod and said, "Okay, now get to cover. They'll be here soon."

"Okay."

"No wait," Sunny stopped her. "Hold on."

As En stood waiting, Sunny walked over to her and gave her a tight, loving hug. "Thanks for standing with us."

"That's okay," En mumbled, her voice muffled by Sunny's hair. En wasn't exactly tall (she preferred the term 'still in full growth'), but neither was Sunny, so their heads were about at the same height. The guys would probably be immensely jealous now, but to En, being held by this woman wasn't anything sexual, it just gave her a feeling of great safety. She didn't know why, but she felt nothing could happen to her as long as this woman looked out for her. En hoped nothing happened to her during the minutes to come.

As abruptly as she'd taken hold of her, Sunny let go. "Okay, hun. Now get to cover. And if this goes bad, you run, okay? If it turns into a slaughter, you leave us, and you run. Get to safety."

"I can't promise – "

Sunny's dark brown eyes bored into hers as she grabbed her shoulders. "Yes you can. I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you. Now go."

She had the perfect spot already picked out: behind a steel plate wall with a nice hole in it, to provide a nice view over the road they'd be coming from. "Okay," she said, looking back at the others. "Everyone stay put until the right moment."

"And what would the right moment be, miss En?" Ringo asked from his position behind the old concrete horse trough at the side of the road.

En smiled mysteriously again (she loved doing that, building up the moment, getting people curious before the big reveal), and holding up the walkie-talkie, only said, "You'll know it when it happens."

Easy Pete lowered his binoculars and grunted, "Enough yappin'. They're here."

As one, everyone fell quiet and hid behind whatever it was that they'd chosen to hide behind. Sunny briefly nodded to En, and then her head disappeared.

En's heart pounded. She'd never expected to actually be in a gunfight, and all the confidence she'd assembled her gadgets with was now gone. It was all easy at the workbench, but now, it felt as if she'd gotten into something that was way bigger than her. The people that got involved in gunfights were the people in books and stories, like the folks miss Bishop used to teach about back home, who'd carved their piece of paradise out of the Californian hillside. Not some 'unknown unlucky wastelander girl', as Checkers had called her, doing simple repair and courier jobs and making her parents frustrated in her lack of interest in the development of the Egyptian Empire in 3000BC. No, she was just a regular sixteen-year-old girl who had to nag her parents over pocket money and had a crush on the doctor's son. Some insignificant village girl. Then again, miss Bishop had always taught her children that anyone could be a hero, and En guessed she'd find out if that was true today.

Peeping though her little hole, she saw a bunch of people boldly marching up the road. Good. Keep parading, boys. The one in front seemed to be the leader, probably that Joe Cobb character. He was dressed in blue security armor with the letters NCRCF embossed on them in white. Right, the prison they'd taken over. They were eleven in total, nine men and two women, dressed in prisoner suits and several armed with old boomsticks, though the Cobb-person carried a semi-decent hunting rifle. If they made it through, Sunny would probably be glad to trade weapons with him.

They were close to the little package now, strutting forward, apparently completely confident in their numbers and their hardware. Gotta get as much of them as possible. As the majority of the group passed over the package (they hadn't seen it, blind bastards), En put the walkie-talkie to her mouth, her hands slick with sweat, and her finger on the send-button. "Hey what the – ", one of the Powder Gangers exclaimed, his eyes on the package beneath his feet. It had to be now!

Unable to resist the urge to add a comical, "Hello?", En pressed the radio's send-button. And yep, the other walkie-talkie beeped, the electricity from the battery transferring through the wiring she'd soldered onto its insides, and straight to the blasting cap she'd attached to the concentrated mass of dynamite she'd stuffed into the plastic power socket cover, along with an entire box of nails.

The results were predictable. With a loud, deafening blast, the package detonated, blowing the group of Powder Gangers apart. Another blast followed, and one of the female powder fuckers was blown straight in half, the dynamite tucked so carelessly into her belt going off from the first blast. En averted her eyes as she saw the woman's torso rocket into the air, her insides flying out of her body in all directions as the other Powder Gangers were thrown to the ground, the nails shredding their legs and lower bodies. Most of them simply fell down screaming, but a few, including the infamous Joe Cobb, got back to their feet and scrambled for cover. Almost simultaneously – they couldn't have rehearsed it better – they walked into the traps En had set a ways further. The remaining woman impaled her foot on a spike trap, another man did the same, and one got his leg chomped by the rusty bear trap, crashing to the ground as his leg was caught and his speed dragged him to the ground. Ringo's pistol shot one of the remaining mobile powder bastards through the head, and doc Mitchell, of all people, felled one with a dead centre laser beam to the abdomen. Sunny's shots went wide, except for one that dropped the man shrieking from the impaled foot on the spike trap. The last powder ganger, Joe Cobb himself, charged forward, roaring and firing wildly, forcing the defenders to keep their heads down. But when he passed the welcome-sign and the crossbow tucked away behind it, En pulled the switch that released the bowstring, and the two darts were launched at Cobb, the wire they trailed behind them crackling with electrical current. The darts caught him in the side and spasming, he fell to the ground, making a high-pitched shrieking sound. With a loud pop, the fission battery short-circuited and blew out, saving Joe Cobb's life. At least for now. Welcome to Goodsprings indeed.

But it had worked! It had actually worked! One powder ganger lay on the ground, clutching her impaled foot and whimpering, three more lay next to the detonated package, incapacitated and vocalizing their pain in carrying volumes among their dead comrades, and Joe Cobb himself lay on his back, twitching and emitting gagging sounds.

Cautiously, En stuck her head out of her cover, and she saw the others do the same. Holy crap, she hadn't predicted it to go _that_ well. And neither had the others, standing visibly perplexed at the carnage En's gadgets had wrought. Everyone except Ringo, who calmly walked to the fallen Powder Gangers, and when he reached the female with the impaled foot, he flatly said, "This is for Chipper," and shot her in the face. He looked up at En and said, "Sorry you have to see this."

En's mouth worked, but she couldn't speak. She'd never seen anyone die before, and it had all seemed so unreal, like a game, when she'd made her gadgets, but now, there were _people_ lying dead on the road. Shot, impaled, torn apart. En's insides felt like they were hard as stone. At least she still had hers inside of her body.

"Geez, Ringo," one of the villagers called out, but he simply responded with a flat, "I need to do this." He walked to the three lying on the ground, their legs shredded by En's bomb. "And this is for Tina." With a quick bang-bang-bang, he shot all three.

But when he walked to Joe Cobb, Sunny leapt over her cover and shouted, "Wait, Ringo."

He looked up at her with vacuous eyes and stopped.

Sunny came to stand next to him and held out her hand. "Give me your gun."

Sullenly, Ringo did so.

Cobb had regained enough of his senses to be able to speak, though he didn't have his muscles under control yet, and he stuttered, "S-Sunny, you're n-not g-going to – "

Coldly, Sunny said, "Yes I am," and shot Joe Cobb in the groin, blowing his genitals into bloody shreds. Cobb shrieked and kicked, his hands on his crotch, blood spurting out between his fingers. Sunny lifted the pistol again to finish him off, but the strength in her arm failed and she let the weapon drop to the ground, walking away and wiping her eyes. What the Hell had just happened?

As Sunny briskly walked away, her face averted, Ringo picked up his pistol. "She wouldn't have shot you that way if you didn't deserve it, Cobb." And instead of firing, he simply holstered the gun, leaving Cobb to kick and thrash. En covered her ears until finally, his foot only twitched slightly and then stopped.

Hoarsely, doc Mitchell said, "I… guess I'll go see if Sunny's okay."And with that, he walked after her.

Silence fell on the streets of Goodsprings, Ringo standing over Joe Cobb's body, the wind playing with his hair, En on the side of the road, feeling completely miserable, and Easy Pete and the two villagers staring at Ringo and the bodies at his feet.

En supposed this was victory.


	6. Public Peace and Soft Sunlight

**SIX**

**Goodsprings**

**June 26th**

**18:47**

"You alright, Sunny?" En asked as she came into doc Mitchell's practice. They were both sitting at Mitchell's old table. The rickety thing was almost completely stripped of varnish and with coffee stains soaked into the wood. Surprisingly, Sunny had a cup of coffee in front of her, as did doc Mitchell. Not very surprising in his case.

"I'm fine, sweetie, thanks," Sunny replied wearily. Her eyes were swollen.

"What, um… what was that business with that Cobb guy just then?" En asked, even though she knew rationally that it might not be a good idea. Emotionally, she wanted to know. Not out of curiosity (okay, maybe a little), but more because she genuinely wanted to help.

"I think it's best if…" Mitchell began.

"No, Frank, it's alright. She can know." Then she turned to En. "Though you've probably figured it out yourself, huh?"

En sat down on the third and last chair at Mitchell's table. "I uh… got an idea, yeah." She cleared her throat. Nervous though she was, she had to ask, even if it might upset both Mitchell and Sunny herself. "Sunny… this Cobb guy. Did he… did he rape you?"

Sunny's response was a weak smile. "No, sweetie. Not that." She took a breath, staring into her coffee. "Let's just say he… tricked me into thinking he was someone he wasn't, and that I gave away far too much of myself."

Huh. So like that, then. "Okay. I guess."

"How're you?"

Good question. Alright, she supposed. "Alright, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Mitchell asked gruffly. "No supposes, girlie. You just witnessed something way too awful for a sixteen-ye ar-old to witness. I wanna know, and I wager Sunny too, how you're dealing with all that stuff."

Mitchell was right, in a way. She'd seen things that not even an adult should have to see, but to be honest, the misery she'd felt when she'd stood on the side of that road, the torn-up bodies of the Powder Gangers searing themselves into her mind, had since faded. It was still there, of course, and she'd never forget the screams and the guts and the blood, but it wasn't that bad anymore. She'd lost something, a piece of her innocence, that much was certain, but there was no point dwelling on it now. If she had to be honest with herself, she'd have to come to terms with the fact that she'd killed people, and that she'd doubtless have to kill more if she didn't want to get killed herself. So she gave the most honest answer she could. "Doc, Sunny, I'm not going to lie. Seeing those people get torn up made me feel awful. But _much_ less awful than I would have felt if it had been you guys lying there with your guts on the outside of your bodies. So yeah, I'm fine. It happened, it happened. It was them or us, and despite the terrifying things I've seen, I'm glad it was them."

"Fair enough," doc Mitchell said after a long silence. "But if there's anything, and I mean _anything_, bad dreams, panic attacks, crises of conscience, whatever, you come to me, is that clear?" The look on his face showed that it had better be.

"Or to me," Sunny added. After a scolding look from Mitchell, she clarified, "Come on, doc. Some things you need to talk about among girls."

Abruptly, Mitchell frowned at her. "Something wrong, girlie?"

What? "Uh, no… why?"

He pointed at the crotch of her pants. "You were uh… scratching."

Whoops. Dammit. Okay, no harm done, no harm done, just act like it was nothing. "Oh, no, sorry, just had a little itch."

"Well," Sunny said with a smile, "I'd have thought your mom had already told you, but I guess I will then. It's not really polite to…." She gesticulated at En's groin, "… you know, when you're in company."

Warmth flushed up En's chest and she felt herself going red. "Sorry, didn't stop to think. It's been a confusing couple of hours."

Mitchell seemed satisfied, getting up for another cup of coffee. "That it has been." How the man hadn't turned into a big brown coffee bean yet, she didn't know.

"So, what'd Victor say?" Sunny asked, looking into her coffee cup, making a face, then quickly looking back to make sure Mitchell wasn't looking, and then pouring it into an old pot containing a withered, dead plant.

That's right, Victor. That annoying cowboy-imitating tin can on wheels. He'd promised to come help with the fighting, and he hadn't shown. Now she knew what had been nagging her the entire time. Victor the cow-bot hadn't shown! She'd get to the bottom (or better, the fuse-box) of this later. "He uh… couldn't tell me much. I got some stuff that might help me finger the shooter when I see him, but nothing that can tell me where he went or who he is."

"That"s a bummer," Mitchell opined, setting down a new cup of coffee on the table and sitting down. "You worked for the Mojave Express, right?"

Huh? "Well, I was hired by them, yeah, but I'm not actually an employee. How did you know?"

He turned his coffee cup with his fingertips. "Oh, just heard you were telling the whole story in Trudy's saloon in the middle of the night."

Whoopsie.

"Uh… yeah, I just needed some social contact."

Mitchell kept staring at his cup. "Uh huh."

Oh, geez, now she'd really hurt the guy. She couldn't blame him. He'd rescued her from death (performed brain surgery on her!), and tended to her while she healed, and she went to piss away all his good care in a smoky dive the very first evening she was up and about. "Hey, look, doc. I know I shouldn't have. It was respectless and you deserve better. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's your life. Do with it whatever you want."

Ugh, this just kept getting worse.

"Come on, doc," Sunny tried to help. "There's no need to – "

"Oh, sure, Sunny!" Mitchell blurted out indignantly. "Take her side, why don't you. Feed her big sister complex some more!"

"I… don't know what you're talking about," Sunny stammered. En wanted to tell herself she didn't know either, but she did. And she supposed Sunny did too.

"Sure you don't," Mitchell snapped. "Listen here, Sunny, I want you to ask yourself why you're being so nice to our young guest here. Is it because you like her, or just to feed your own vanity?"

"Hey!" Sunny shouted back. "That was totally uncalled for! You know me better than that. That you'd even suggest such a thing is unworthy of you. What would I get out of acting all big sister to some sixteen-year-old delivery girl I hardly know?"

En didn't show it, but that was far from pleasant. Sure, it was said in anger, but that didn't make it alright. Did they even realize they were talking about her as if she wasn't there?

Mitchell jabbed a finger at Sunny. "You and I both know she's immature and needs someone to look to as an example. And I wonder if you don't just give her attention to make yourself feel worshipped by some naïve wasteland kid."

That did it. Without thinking, En yelled at the both of them, "I'm sitting _right here_!"

The room fell silent, both Sunny and Mitchell awkwardly not knowing where to look.

"If you want to talk about me like that, at least have the guts to tell me to leave the damn room." And to make it clear that she wasn't playing favourites, she looked specifically at Sunny and added, "_Both_ of you."

After another long silence, Mitchell grudgingly admitted, "She's right. I mean, _you're_ right. That… wasn't really us showing our best side."

"Yeah," Sunny (thankfully) agreed. "Sorry sweetie, it's… been a rough day, I guess."

"For me too," En reminded them. "As for the bar, doc, I already said I was sorry, I just felt cooped up, and I kinda needed to know I was still alive. I shouldn't have gone for a drink, you're a hundred percent right, but I didn't realize how bad it'd make you feel."

"Besides," Sunny said, "she wasn't drinking alcohol, wasn't doing anything irresponsible, I was there to keep an eye on her, and she went straight home when I told her to."

Mitchell harrumphed. "I guess I've been young once too."

"Long time ago," En couldn't resist goading.

He made a motion to clip her around the ear. "That's enough out of you, young lady."

"Left side of the face, doc, mind the head wound," En said with a laugh.

"Watch it, sweetie," Sunny joined in, "Or he'll give you a spanking somewhere else than your face."

"God knows _you_ need one, Sunny," Mitchell shot back, draining his coffee cup. Again. He rose for yet another refill and asked, "So, guess you'll be going back to your folks then, huh?"

En knew he wanted her to, but she had to disappoint him. "Sorry, doc. But I need answers. Maybe not revenge, but I at least need to know why. And I need to hear him say he's sorry."

He threw himself down on his chair. "Figured you'd be all young and hot-blooded about it. And I don't think sorry's gonna happen, girlie. People like him, who shoot kids in the head in cold blood, they don't even know the word."

"Well, it's all moot if I can't find him," En thought out loud. "Trail's gone cold and that rust heap Victor wasn't helpful either."

"You know," Sunny ventured. "Instead of trying to find the man who shot you, how 'bout finding out more about the job itself. I mean, maybe that'll help you track him down."

That was good thinking, she supposed, but how could she learn more about that job if her package had been taken?

"Mojave Express you worked for, right girlie?"

"M-hm."

"Alright then, start there. There's a Mojave Express main office down in Primm. Maybe they can shed some light on the matter?"

It was a long shot, but at least it _was_ a shot. "Primm, huh? And where is that?"

"Due south," Sunny informed her. "Just follow the highway. I've been there once, well, close to it, at least, it's… relatively safe as long as you stay on the roads. Or what's left of them."

Safe if you're armed, maybe, but apart from her gadgets and an old multi-tool that came with a knife, En didn't have a single thing on her to defend herself with. Or to find her way with, for that matter. Or survive on. Or buy stuff with. It all looked kinda hopeless.

"I know what you're thinking," Sunny said with a hint of a smile. "But I'm sure we can get you set-up with at least a firearm, some provisions and some money. After all, you solved our Ringo problem almost single-handedly."

"That's real nice, but I don't wanna – "

"Don't start fussin' now, young lady," Mitchell scolded. "I didn't save your ass just to see you starve or get eaten two hundred yards outta town."

She supposed it wouldn't do to refuse. "Alright, then a few things would be nice, yeah."

"_And_ I'll squeeze Chet for some supplies too," Sunny said, not without pride. "He's a miserly bastard, but I'm sure he'll have _something_ to spare for the kid that blew the Powder Gangers back to NCRCF all on her own."

"You'll be needin' a map too," Mitchell informed her. "Sit tight." He stood up from his chair and disappeared in his bedroom. As he did so, En considered asking Sunny to come along, but she probably wanted to stay in her town, and it would be awkward, and very disappointing if she said no. Before she could decide whether or not to ask, Mitchell returned, holding some kind of big wrist watch.

"This, girlie," he proudly proclaimed, laying the long, arm bracer-like device on the table, "is a Pip-boy."

Holy crap, a Pip-boy! She's heard of those, of course, because Lysanna of Old Arroyo, the founder of her city, had worn one, and reportedly doctor Phyllis had one lying around as well, but she'd never actually seen one. The one Lysanna had worn had been the personal Pip-boy of the Great Vault Dweller himself. If she could believe the stories people told about the Great Vault Dweller's Pip-boy, then the thing could move mountains, change the Earth's orbit and make Morliss the butcher shop woman smile. Of course, En didn't believe any of that bullshit, but what was certain was that the Pip-boy was an extremely useful item: wrist watch, data retainer, map, compass, sound recorder, device interface and lots more in one. Oh, and it had a neato alarm clock that beeped when people had to wake up.

"Now this one doesn't work," Mitchell explained, "but that's because I dropped it once and yanked out some wires tryin' to catch it." He made a sheepish face. "Butter fingers."

"Uh, doc…" Sunny said hesitantly. "Wasn't this your late wife's?"

"Yep," he said, surprisingly cheerful. "I can't use it anymore, and God knows she can't, so might as well hand it to my little protégé here." He pronounced it _proteegee_. "She would have wanted it that way."

"Well, yeah, but I thought you were going to use it for the good of the village?"

En sensed that Sunny didn't ask just out of curiosity.

"I know, I know, but this is more important, right? Can't have the savior of Goodsprings getting lost and walking to her doom like a headless chicken, right?" The drama he laid in the words 'savior of Goodsprings' was exaggerated and slightly sarcastic, but En knew he said it that way to give her honest appreciation a more light-hearted twist. To convey his feelings without acknowledging them.

Sunny spread her hands. "Okay, doc, you know best." Looks like someone had been hoping she'd get that Pip-boy instead of En. And En was genuinely sorry, but if she wanted to survive out there, she needed that thing.

And _still_ she said, "Hey, but if the village could profit from having someone else get that Pip-boy, then maybe – "

"No 'but'," Mitchell said. It was final. And refusing the thing would probably make him very angry, and worse, very insulted. "If you can get that little dee-vice repaired, it's all yours."

Her very own Pip-boy! En was a gadget- and trinket-specialist, especially for her age, and very little could really surprise her anymore (though parts, machines, devices, all that sort of thing still fascinated her), but even she couldn't help but feel giddy at getting her own Pip-boy. If she could get it repaired, that was, but to her, fixing anything short of a particle collider was a joke. Sunny's disappointment was legible on her face, though. So feeling ambivalent, she said, "Thank you, doctor. I'll take good care of it, make it good as new, and when I'm done with my personal stuff, I promise I'll bring it back."

He waved dismissively. "You can keep it if you like. Just make sure you use it."

"Congrats, sweetie," Sunny said quietly, trying to hide her begrudgement.

"Thanks," En said back, feeling slightly guilty.

With a lopsided grin, Mitchell told her to, "Best head over to Easy Pete's shack on more time, huh, girlie? Get some parts or wires or whatever you need?"

"Yeah, best."

Sunny rose too. "I'll uh, go see if I can't extract some goodies from our friend Chet."

* * *

><p>The Pip-boy had some wires yanked out, indeed, and some connector pins bent out of place, but other than that, it was in perfect working order, except for a hairline crack in the screen. Doc Mitchell had apparently dropped the thing more than just once. Resoldering a few wires and bending the pins back straight did the trick, and with a quiet <em>beep<em>, the Pip-boy booted, the screen lighting up in amber-coloured letters. Huh. She'd always heard Pip-boys had green screens. But then she saw what was wrong. One of the connectors between the core and the screen had been damaged, and so the thing displayed in amber instead of in green. She could have fixed it, but for some reason, she liked it better that way.

"Ah! A Pip-boy!" a pleasantly surprised voice came from behind En. "Well, miss En, looks like you're getting your deserved reward."

"Hi mr. Ringo," En called out, clicking the Pip-boy's screen back into position. All repaired! "How's the road look?"

He came to sit next to her. "Bodies are being dragged off and thrown into a ditch to get burned. Easy Pete let the cowards, as he calls them, take care of that. Trudy's thrown a few buckets of water over the bloodstains to wash them off, but of course that doesn't help much."

En made to set the Pip-boy's clock to the time she thought it was, approximately, when the little device beeped and displayed, "SETTING CLOCK TO SATELLITE TIME, 20:45, IS THIS OK?" Damn straight it was okay. There, that took care of setting the clock. "So what about the loot?"

"Loot?"

She turned to him. "Yah. The spoils of victory. The stuff those thugs were carrying."

"Ah, like that. Well, that's why I'm here. We made a big pile out of it all, and we've all agreed that you get to take as much as, and whatever you like, and the rest, we divide among us."

Geez, as if she wasn't embarrassed enough with the Pip-boy. "Guys, you really don't have to – "

"We voted on it," Ringo said with a smirk. "Four yea-votes, so it doesn't matter what either you or Sunny vote."

"Democracy, huh?"

"At its best, miss En. Now come on, toy store's open."

* * *

><p>In the middle of the road lay all the dead Powder Gangers' possessions, in a great big pile. Well, the pile wasn't really that great or big, but still. And it wasn't really a pile, more of a neatly arranged display. A morbid flea market, as it were. En didn't feel right looting the dead, but on the other hand, those assholes <em>had<em> tried to kill them, and it wasn't like they could actually use it anymore. Plus, some of the things really did look interesting. There was Cobb's NCRCF armour, mostly undamaged (though seriously bloody in the underbelly), and his hunting rifle. Two pistols and one revolver lay next to the hunting rifle. A single grenade was placed upright next to the three knives, two police batons, and single hatchet the Powder Gangers had carried. On the other side of the suit of armor lay a crowbar, a machete, and a set of throwing knives. Who the Hell used throwing knives these days? A few rounds of ammunition, rations, and two bottles of booze completed the loot pile.

"I uh… think Sunny could use the hunting rifle. Hers is kinda worthless," En said hoarsely, trying to make up for the Pip-boy thing.

"I don't doubt that she could," Ringo countered, "but I don't see her taking or using anything that belonged to our late friend Joe Cobb. Take it, you'll need a gun, and from what Sunny told me, that rifle will be your best pick."

She supposed he was right, and stooped to pick up the rifle. It was a relatively new weapon, but it didn't look all that powerful. As she lifted the weapon, Ringo counseled, "Best pick up a nice side-arm while you're at it."

"Uh… any suggestions?"

"Absolutely. That nine millimeter Beretta 92F is a solid, reliable weapon with decent stopping power."

"You uh, seem to know your guns?"

He chuckled. "I'm the Crimson Caravan's number one weapons trader. That rifle you're holding there is a Remington 700 Varmint, chambered in .223 caliber. Great for small game hunting, and actually not too bad for humans, if you can hit them in unarmored spots."

O… kay, this guy clearly wasn't clueless about guns. En knew the basics about them, but more as a side benefit to knowing their inner workings and how to repair and maintain them.

"Might not kill a human on the first shot, unless you get them in the head, of course, but a good hit will definitely stop them from coming closer."

"Right. So what's that gun you use?"

He patted the weapon in its holster. "This, miss En, is a Sig Sauer P226. It's also nine millimeter, just like that Beretta you're holding now, so we'll have to share ammo. The Sig's a bit more modern though."

"Cool."

"Anything else you want to take? Don't hesitate, alright? Anything you need, it's yours."

The armour looked appealing, but walking around wearing a Powder Ganger outfit might just make the wrong people shoot at her. And protection was nice, but not getting shot at at all was still preferable. Plus, there was the bloody underbelly, and the little matter of Sunny not being likely to approve of her choice of protective gear.

"Guess I'll take one of those rations, then," En finally decided. Something to eat would be nice, since apparently, Primm wasn't all that close. Probably at least a day's walk.

"Sure. So, where you headed?"

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Primm, I suppose. Find the main Mojave Express office, see what they can tell me about that package I carried."

Ringo stroked his chin, thinking. "Hmm. Primm's a detour, but they're not expecting me back at the Crimson Caravan anyway. Alright, let's head to Primm."

Excuse me? "Uh… 'Let's'?"

"Yes. 'Let us'." When En blinked, he clarified, "I'm coming with you."

Uh… that was unexpected. Not that she minded a good shot escorting her there, but she didn't know this man from Adam, and it was a bit forward of him to invite himself along and expecting her to just be okay with it.

"I see you're hesitating to accept my help?"

Got that right, she was hesitating. He might be a nice guy, but he could also be some creepy child molester or something, waiting for her to be alone and then –

Ugh, what was she thinking. He probably just wanted to repay her for the help. And it wasn't like she couldn't defend herself if he turned out to be a creep, right? Right. And it wasn't as if he looked like a rapist or some such. It'd be fine. Somewhat weird to be strolling around with a thirty-year-old dude, but hey, the wastes were all about weirdness.

"Yeah um… I'm okay with it, just caught me by surprise, is all. It'd be nice to have someone watching my back out there." But she couldn't resist adding, "But keep your hands to yourself, y'hear?" She said it with a grin and on a comical tone, but only so he wouldn't feel insulted.

"Miss En," he announced, "I'll be a perfect gentleman." He sure looked like he meant it. "I'm accompanying you to repay you for swaying those hicks at the town council. They'd have given me up to the Powder Gangers for sure if it hadn't been for you."

"Sunny wouldn't have," she said fiercely.

With a chuckle, he agreed. "No, Sunny wouldn't have. But she alone against those Powder Gangers? Then I'd rather she did give me up."

"Well, anyway, I did what I did because it was right. No need to thank me, or anything."

"I insist, miss En." He was gentle, but final. "I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you because I let you scoot off on your own. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go and pack."

Well, he was determined alright. And hey, she'd probably be glad to have him along. "Well, I'll be glad to have someone to talk to, that much is certain."

* * *

><p>The stupid bucket of bolts stood in front of the same shack, in the same position it'd been when she'd first seen it. The idiotic cowboy face still displayed proudly on its monitor. "Well, howdy, pardner!" it greeted in its obnoxious voice when it spotted her. "More questions about that bullet in the noggin'?"<p>

"Tell me why you weren't there during the fighting back there," En commanded bluntly. No point being polite to lifeless machines.

"What fightin' would that be, pardner? I ain't been informed of no shoot-out at high noon?"

Did this robot just _lie_ to her? Robots weren't usually programmed to lie to people, unless they had some kind of devious programmer giving them instructions, but even then. When they were supposed to keep things a secret, they usually just replied with some kind of variation on the old 'this information is restricted'-slogan. But lying? En had never heard a robot do that before. And it was a lie, because robots weren't people, they didn't forget things, things didn't just 'slip their mind'.

Still, she reminded him, "I told you that Powder Gangers were going to attack this place at around six, Victor." And to make sure the stupid thing understood, "You told me you were going to help, you retarded – "

Oh shit, there it was again. The ringing in her ears began again, swelling to a higher and higher volume as the relatively gentle headache she always had since the headshot intensified, pounding so hard it felt like En's skull would burst. Her vision doubled and it was as if the evening had become clearer than day, until En saw nothing but light, with only a few blurred shapes remaining visible of her surroundings. She bent over, holding her head as her ears shrieked, and tried to keep her stomach contents in, the nausea increasing to violent levels.

"Y'awrite there, cowgirl?"

En didn't even hear the robot drawl out its pre-programmed inquiry, just standing there, holding her head and panting from the pain and shrieking in her ears. Her legs stopped supporting her and she fell to her knees in the sand. This one was worse than the one before, the pain behind her eyes blinding her and the shrieking in her ears rendering her completely deaf.

Then, slowly, it lessened again. The noise in her ears slowly diminished, and the pounding headache stabilized to tolerable levels as her vision slowly returned to normal. Sitting on her knees, breathing hard, she waited for the episode to end, and slowly but surely, it did, until the pain in her head returned to it familiar faint throbbing.

"Well, you sure look like you were in a whole lot of pain there, pardner."

Struggling to her feet, En ordered the robot, "Don't you concern yourself with that." After a few breaths, she was able to pick up the original conversation again. "I'm asking you again, why didn't you help during the gunfight, as you said you would?"

"Pardner, I don't recall you tellin' me about no gunslingin' waitin' to happen," the junk box insisted. "You sure you ain't been sippin' a bit too much o' the old whisky?"

What a god damn annoying rust heap! "Victor, you're clearly being a pest on purpose. Let me access your diagnostics tool."

Normally, when you commanded a robot to open its diagnostics, its screen changed to the green-and-black monochrome mode, displaying a command prompt. But here, the cowboy face remained, immovable. "Whoa there, pardner," the tin can protested. "Can't have you rootin' 'round in my insides just like that."

Hm. Probably password protected. But hey, maybe that new Pip-boy she'd repaired could let her interface with the dumb junk heap's operating system. En wasn't a programmer, but who knows, maybe she could find out what the problem was. Next to the screen was a small plug that fit an extendable cable in her Pip-boy. She hooked her awesome piece of electronics up to the moronic automaton, and sure enough, a command prompt displayed. Using the keys on her Pip-boy, she entered the command, RUN DIAG.

A slew of diagnostics came up on the Pip-boy screen, and the last entry caught her attention: LAST ADMINISTRATOR-LEVEL MODIFICATION: 2281/06/26 - REMOTE ACCESS_

Huh. Weird. Someone had accessed this particular unit remotely, and fidgeted with its data. Would explain why the metallic halfwit didn't have any recollection of its own promise to help during the firefight. It wasn't that anyone would have missed him (En estimated his prowess in battle to be situated somewhere between, "old toothless crone with chronic diarrhea in a supermarket trolley" and "newborn baby seal with amputated tail fins on a unicycle") but that someone had gone through the trouble of actually erasing such a piece of unimportant data was very strange indeed. And that someone really had only erased that particular scrap, because the robot did remember her, and the conversation they'd had, the questions she'd asked about the man who'd shot her, all of it. Except being asked, and agreeing to help in the fighting. Meanwhile, Victor waited patiently, remaining perfectly silent as En tried to figure out its programming.

DISPLAY LAST ADMINISTRATOR-LEVEL MODIFICATION DETAIL, En typed into her Pip-boy. The only reply she got was, ERROR. ADMINISTRATOR-LEVEL ACCESS REQUIRED_. And on a lower line appeared, QUIT OR ENTER ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD, 3 TRIES LEFT_.

She had no idea what the password could be, so she simply typed QUIT, and she was brought back to the command prompt. Frustrated, she pulled the Pip-boy's little cable out of the rust bucket's socket and simply said, "I really don't like you, robot."

"Well, shucks," Victor said back, his enthusiasm undampened. "I _do_ like you, little pardner. You're a righteous little cowgirl."

"Whatever."

* * *

><p>"Look at that!" Sunny beamed proudly as En came into doc Mitchell's house. Her disappointment over the unacquired Pip-boy seemed to have gone, and she held up a thick, resilient-looking chestpiece of dark brown boiled leather armour. "It's no kevlar, but it's decent enough protection, right?"<p>

It certainly looked tough enough. "Yeah," En agreed. "What's it for?"

Making a puzzled face, she replied, "It's to keep your little bod safe, of course, silly!"

Geez, more presents. And she already felt so uncomfortable accepting so much help from these people. Cheyenne stared at En over the table top.

"Don't feel guilty," Sunny assured her, apparently knowing what she was thinking. "I leeched this off that greedy-ass Chet, so don't feel bad. He won't miss it."

"It's… real nice," En could only say.

"Chet's a miserly, profiteering scumbag, sweetie," Sunny hammered in. "At least now his stuff is being put to good use." She spotted the pistol at her hip and the rifle slung over her back, and with a grin, said, "Looks like you're almost set for a night on the town, right?"

"… Kinda, yeah. Just need a purse to go with these shoes and I'm all set."

Sunny chuckled and laid the chestpiece on the table, dumping a pair of heavy leather pants on top of them. "And just so you'd have decent footwear to match your new wardrobe," she said, bending down again to pick up a pair of heavy motorcycle boots, "here's a nice replacement for those worn Nike running shoes."

Man, this was _really_ too much. But before she could protest again, Sunny repeated, "It's better with you than with Chet, who'd probably sell it at a disgusting price anyway. Keep it, sweetie, the whole town agrees that making sure you're safe is the best thing to do."

"Thanks… Sunny."

Her smile broadening, she simply said, "It's all good."

"Ah, you're back," doc Mitchell established gruffly, carrying a laundry basket. "Feelin' okay?"

"Uh huh. Still get those episodes though."

He set the laundry basket down on top of En's new attire and looked up at her, his attention caught. "The headaches? Dizziness? Ringin' ears?"

"M-hm. I'm… kinda worried they won't go away entirely."

"It's only been a few days, sweetie," Sunny assured her. "Head wounds always take time to heal. Right doc?"

"Mmm," he tentatively agreed. "Still, the meds should have accelerated the process and the seizures should be mostly suppressed." He thought for a moment, rubbing his chin, and finally decided, "It's something worth keeping an eye on."

"It'll be fine," Sunny said cheerfully, doubtless trying to infect En with her optimism. And it actually worked, a little bit. And still, if a few painful episodes were the worst she'd retain from her little kick in the head, it wouldn't be a disaster. Because like Mitchell had said, you never knew with brains. She might have been blind, amnesic, deaf, paralyzed, or what else have you.

Sunny echoed her thoughts, "Hey, it's nothing compared to what could have happened, right?"

"Nope," En concurred. "Better spend the rest of my life getting some bad headaches every now and then than spending the rest of my life dead."

"Ain't it the truth," Mitchell muttered. "So how 'bout we take that bandage off, huh?"

"Off, as in permanently?" En asked hopefully. The bandage had itched like crazy, even when she'd just worn the narrow strip around her head, so it'd be a relief to see it gone."

"Yeppers," Mitchell said with a nod. "Meds should have done their work on it now, and it's always good to let some air onto a healing injury."

"Ooh," Sunny exclaimed, excited. "Can I stay?"

Mitchell shrugged, "Sure."

The meds had done a fine job indeed. The bloody crust on her scalp had reduced in size, and fresh pink scar tissue was already forming on the edges of the wound. Still, it was an awful ruin, the hair on the side of her head gone, a little strip of hair remaining above her ear, and hairless future scar tissue making a stripe above it, from her temple to the back of her skull, almost five centimetres in width. Short hairs, cut hastily and utterly awful-looking, lined the wound.

"Ouch," Sunny could only say.

"Yeah," Mitchell sighed. "He got you good."

"Puh, it adds character," En joked. "Besides, wacky hair styles are all the rage these days."

"So what're you gonna do?" Sunny asked, "Leave your hair the length it is now, or cut it short?"

Good question. "I think if I leave it at this length, it'll just look weird. Plus, there's a lot of short hair, and it'll look better if I get my hair to the same length. Guess I'll have to cut it."

"Plenty of time to decide on that later," Mitchell said. "Besides, I can't cut hair anyway. Don't think anyone here can."

"And I cut my hair myself," Sunny admitted. "Which is why I uh… always tie it back."

"Could wear a bandana or something to cover it?" Mitchell suggested.

It was a good alternative, but En didn't really care all that much about some aesthetic issues. She was alive, and the rest was all irrelevant.

"I can cut hair," a male voice chimed in from the doorway.

"You can what?" Sunny blurted out.

With an embarrassed scrape of his throat, Ringo came in, dropped his backpack by the door and said, "Hair. I can cut it."

"You're not talkin' 'bout simply pullin' a trimmer over someone's head, are you?" Mitchell asked skeptically, "'Cause I can do that too."

Sunny still hadn't gotten over her amazement. Fighting back a grin, she asked, "Hair? _You_ do hair?"

"Yes, Sunny," Ringo bit, raising his voice. "Hair. I do _hair_. Alright?"

"But what… how… I mean… " Sunny stammered, still grinning. En had a hard time not grinning with her, even if she didn't think being able to cut hair was anything else than a normal hobby, even for a man. She supposed it was just Sunny's mirth being infectious. And it _was_ kind of strange, though not in a bad way, to hear a slightly macho and entirely manly guy saying he liked to cut hair.

"It's always been a passion of mine." And with a finger pointed at Sunny, he added, "And I don't think there's anything gay about it."

Her grin still on her face, Sunny said, "No, no, I don't think it's gay, it's just… weird to hear _you_ say the words 'I do hair'. It just… conjures up mental images of you acting all camp, dancing around people's heads with a pair of scissors, talking about the weather with a silly lisp, making that typical gay limp-wristed hand gesture and going 'Oooh la la'!"

Ringo's frown deepened. "I don't speak with a lisp, I don't go 'Oooh la la', and I don't dance. I just cut people's hair, in a manly, completely-secure-in-my-heterosexual-orientation way."

Sunny couldn't wipe the grin from her eyes, so she just turned away and said, "Alright, everyone his hobby, I guess."

"Quite. Would you like me to cut yours, miss En?"

En had no idea how reliable this man would be with a pair of scissors, since scissors in most men's hands were as subtle as overcharged hedge trimmers, but since there wasn't anyone else to do it… "Uh… sure. Not like it can get any worse."

Mitchell had miraculously remained dead serious through the entire exchange, and with the same serious face, he took a large towel and draped it around En's shoulders. "So the hair doesn't fall into your clothes." He swiveled her chair back so she faced the mirror, and motioned for Ringo to begin. Sunny was still looking away, trying to hold back her laughter at the mental image she'd conjured up for herself.

Ringo took a pair of scissors, a comb, and a toothed thinning scissor out of his back and came to stand behind En. "How would you like it done, miss En?"

There was a high-pitched, stifled peep from Sunny as she strained to hold back a new bout of laughter at Ringo's question.

Ringo merely rolled his eyes and muttered, "I see Sunny intends to be childish about this."

"I'm sorry," Sunny hiccupped, muffled through her hand. "I'm not laughing at you, it's just, the images in my head right now… you'd laugh too if you saw them."

Ringo only sighed and briefly let his eyes go to the ceiling. "So miss En, talk to me."

"I uh… don't really know," En said. "And you can drop the miss, just En's fine."

"Very well. How 'bout a short cut, standing up? Looks a bit tomboy, but that fits your personality, I daresay?" He undid the short ponytail En always wore and fluffed her hair over her shoulders. Mitchell, meanwhile, took his laundry basket and disappeared to another room.

Sunny had recovered from her guffawing fit and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Yeah, might as well have hair that suits your character."

"You… mean tomboy in the good way, right?" En asked carefully.

"Of course," Ringo exclaimed, holding both sides of her head, but taking gentle care not to touch her injury, and scanning both sides of En's skull. "In the girl-who-likes-boy-stuff-but-who's-still-feminine-herself kind of way."

Sunny nodded in agreement. "In the adorable way."

"Right. But what about the scar? If you cut it short – "

"You'll see," Ringo interrupted, "that even though you'll see more of it, you'll actually notice it less. Try to hide it and it attracts far more attention."

"I'm… not sure I think this theory is entirely logical," En said carefully.

"Trust me, En, I know my things when it comes to hair."

She felt like she was making a huge mistake, but hey, it'd grow back, right? "Okay, then, I guess."

"So, short? Good for you?"

"M-hm."

"Trust me, It'll look great on you!" He snipped the air with his scissors. "Let's get started then!"

"Can I stay and watch?" Sunny asked.

With a scolding frown, Ringo told her, "Yes, if you stop with that inane giggling."

Sunny held up two fingers. "Not another snicker out of me, promised."

Ringo gave her another skeptical glance, harrumphed, and then began, holding up En's hair between his two fingers, and methodically cutting off ends of her hair, occasionally pausing to see if the length was symmetrical, and then continuing.

"Ooh, by the way," Sunny asked En. "I've been meaning to ask you."

"Mm?"

With a mischievous face, she leaned in towards En. "Boyfriend?"

Ah yes, that question. She supposed it had to come at some point. People always seemed curiously interested in other people's states of relationship. Thing was, at this moment, she didn't really know what to reply. There was someone, but it was… complicated. "There's someone, but it's… complicated."

"Ooooh," Sunny let out, intrigued. "Tell us all!"

"By all means," Ringo agreed, intently focused on her hair.

Sigh, where to begin. "Well, there's this guy I like, back home. He's – "

"What's he like?" Sunny asked eagerly.

"I'll tell you if you let me speak," En said with a grin. Sunny's interruptions weren't rude, and En knew they were made out of eagerness and enthusiasm, and it was nice to have someone she looked up to be so interested in her. "He tends bar back home. This nice, cosy place dedicated to one of the folks that travelled with the founder of the city."

Sunny nodded, "M-hm?"

"Well, he's cute, tall, and real nice. And he's got these dreamy gray eyes. His mom's got them too, though, well… I don't consider hers so dreamy of course."

"Of course."

"She's nice though, his mom. The town doctor. Also one of the folks that founded the city. Lost half her hand because of it too. And her husband. Anyway, he's called Christopher, and we… well, we get along well, I s'pose."

Sunny crossed her arms, surprised. "You get along? That's all?"

"… Yeah."

"So when are you making your move?" Ringo asked, surprising them both.

Her heart ached slightly when she thought of why she hadn't 'made her move' yet. "I… kinda feel like an ugly duckling back home."

"Why?" Sunny asked it sincerely, not with exaggerated surprise as a means of complimenting En or worse, giving her false reassurance.

"Most people there were born of Enclave parents," En explained. When Sunny gave a not-understanding frown, she clarified, "They were all genetically enhanced to be strong, intelligent and physically attractive."

"You're good-looking too," Sunny said confidently.

"I… guess I'm not repulsive," En admitted. She felt she had a realistic image of herself, and she supposed she wasn't bad looking, but 'not bad looking' was pitiful compared to 'born of genetically tailored parents'. "Though this skid mark on my head won't help."

"Well, you know you look nice," Sunny said. "And the scar just makes you more intriguing. So you should be able to snare that guy, right?"

"Nope."

Ringo contributed another short, "What's stopping you?"

"Because someone else likes him too and I don't stand a chance against her," En said flatly. It wasn't to throw a pity party or to self-deprecate, it was simple fact. She was not ugly, and she had a healthy amount of self-esteem, but sometimes you just have to recognize that someone else is better at something than you are.

"Who?" Ringo asked.

"Irene," En replied. "Daughter of the police chief and the girl who runs the butcher shop. She's… well, gorgeous, I 'spose. Though it figures, her dad was genetically tailored before he was born in the Enclave, and her mom is… possibly one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

"Any chance I can meet this mom?" Ringo joked with a grin.

"Uh… she's so in love with her husband you'd need a hydrogen bomb to pry them away from each other. Anyway," she continued, "I'm not too optimistic on my odds. She's gorgeous, has a great personality, and well… she's got a much more impressive cup size."

"I'm sure he'll prefer perky over saggy with stretch marks?"

"Oh trust me," En said with a humourless laugh, "they're not saggy."

Leaning in again, this time with a fiendish grin on her face, Sunny suggested, "All's fair in love and war, sweetie. Sock the chick in the mouth, that'll show her."

"Wish I could," En said with a chuckle, as she scrunched her face up from a strand of cut hair that tickled as it fell. "Thing is, she's really nice, so nice I can't even be mad at her, in fact."

"Hmmm," Sunny mused, leaning back. "That _is_ unfortunate."

"So yeah, by the time I'm back home, they're probably already married. Ah well, plenty of fish in the sea."

"That, my dear," Ringo supported, "is one hundred percent true."

"For a girl like you," Sunny agreed, "it won't be that hard to get a hold of someone."

"I might run into him today, or tomorrow. Or the day after," En said. "No rush."

"All done, I think," Ringo finished the boyfriend-conversation. "Take a look."

En's hair had been cut short, that much was true. It stood upright, about five centimeters long, the sides combed back and the back slightly longer. It looked, as Ringo had said, tomboyish, but still feminine. She'd never though she'd look good with short hair, but the man had been right. It fit her very well, even better than her old ponytail. And unexpectedly, though Ringo had predicted it, the scar became less concealed, but paradoxically less noticeable. It was a hairless stripe, yes, but the fact that no effort was done to conceal it, made it attract far less attention. This man was a hair-cutting genius.

"So… what d'you think?" Ringo asked, clearly eager to hear her thoughts.

"It looks… real nice, actually." She meant it. "I love it."

"I agree," Sunny said. "Makes you look young, fresh, and slightly boyish." She quickly added, "In a good way."

With a nod, En concluded, "Seal of approval, Ringo."

"You're all staying for dinner, by the way," Mitchell's voice came from the living room.

"My, my, look at that short little haircut," doc Mitchell said as he came in with the late dinner he'd bought at Trudy's place. "You look lovely, girlie."

"Thanks," En acknowledged with a smile.

"I'm impressed, Ringo."

Ringo only took a bow in his chair.

"Well," Mitchell announced, "grilled brahmin steaks for all. Enjoy!"

Not caring about what anyone thought, En snatched one of the steaks with her hands and slapped it on her plate. God damn was she hungry! Sunny and Ringo were only slightly slower than she was, all three cutting into their steaks and scoffing down the meat chunks, the occasional lump finding its way from Sunny's fingers into Cheyenne's mouth. En briefly found a breath to mutter, "Thanks for dinner, doc," with, and then stuffed another morsel of meat into her mouth. Mitchell only looked on, making his frown as disapproving as possible, and cut his meat in a completely prissy manner.

"So, Sunny," Ringo asked, his initial voracity satisfied and now eating in a somewhat more civilized manner. "Will you be joining us?"

He'd asked the question En had been afraid to, and she immediately paused, stopping to chew the meat in her mouth, waiting in suspense for the answer. Because she'd really love to have Sunny with her. Not just for the protection, but the company as well. Sunny seemed like a woman she could be friends with. Real friends, not just buddies. Well, at least if Sunny didn't really consider her 'some wasteland delivery girl' as she'd said when she'd been angry.

Sunny looked at Mitchell, went over En, and then back to Ringo, visibly uncomfortable. "I…" she seemed to have trouble finding the words. That didn't foretell much good. "I'd love to, but…" she looked apologetically at En. "… I need to stay here. For the people in this town, you know."

En's heart sank. "You sure?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Sorry, sweetie."

It was really sad that she wasn't coming, but En supposed she couldn't blame her. And she'd done so much already, it would've been totally unfair to pressure her into joining. "If… if that's the way you want it… But I hope you know I'd love to have you along, right?"

She smiled faintly. "I know, sweetie."

Ringo padded the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "Well, my fine dinner companions, I'm off to sleep. It's been a long day."

"You'd best turn in too, girlie," Mitchell said, nodding at En. It wasn't a suggestion.

"Yeah. Okay. You're sure, right Sunny?" She owed it to herself to try one more time."

"Yes, sweetie. But it's not because I don't want to."

It was a shame, but En could understand Sunny's reasons, much as they made her sad. "Alright, Sunny. You'll come wave me goodbye tomorrow though, right?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

><p>True enough, Sunny had come. Along with Easy Pete ("I got too many years in m'bones, hun, otherwise I'd come with an' keep an eye on yer!"), Trudy, the two villagers who'd stood up for Ringo with them, and of course doc Mitchell. Most villagers hadn't even bothered to come say goodbye. Ah well, she hadn't known most of them anyway, and after Easy Pete loudly proclaiming them cowards, she figured it wasn't illogical that they'd chosen not to come watch the farewells.<p>

Sunny stood next to doc Mitchell in the pale morning light, smiling but with a visible sadness in her eyes. Cheyenne didn't display much emotion, just sitting at Sunny's side and panting. There was a light wind that made sand slowly slide along the ground and around people's feet and played with the few loose strands of Sunny's hair.

"So uh… guys, I guess it's time for me to go?" En said, uncomfortable. She wasn't good at farewell speeches.

"You take care now, hun," Easy Pete called to her. "Be sure to come say 'hi' every once in a while so we know you're okay!"

"Will do," En assured.

"And you take care of my young _proteegee_, you wandering vagabond," Mitchell told Ringo, who answered with a simple, "I will."

"Okay, so… this is it then, huh?" En asked, wondering if anyone still had anything to say.

With a nod, Mitchell answered her. "Yep, girlie. Don't worry, it ain't goodbye, right?"

"No. I'll be back."

Sunny, at last, took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around En. "Be careful, okay, sweetie? Promise me you'll come back alive. Even if it means not getting your revenge. Can you promise that for me?"

Her life was worth more than revenge, or even answers, so En merely said, "I promise, Sunny."

Sunny held her tighter. "I'll be thinking about you, sweetie."

"I'll be okay, Sunny. I promise."

Sunny let go. "Alright. See you soon, En."

En gave her a nod and a smile, and turned to Ringo. "Let's go, my heroic protector."

Ringo offered her his arm. "And so our quest begins, my righteous princess. Let us be off!"

With a smile, En hooked her arm into his, turned towards the people of Goodsprings and said, "Thanks for everything, guys. See you soon!"

Sunny stood looking, her arms crossed. Her lips bore a smile, but her eyes betrayed her sadness.

"You want to go along, don't you?" Mitchell asked her quietly, his eyes on the two people that had already made a considerable distance.

"Mmmmno, I need to stay here and look out for the people of this town, right?" She sighed. "It's what I said I'd do when I arrived here two years ago."

"True," Mitchell admitted. "But 'part from today, how many times has your help been necessary in those two years?"

"... Never."

"Just sayin'."

Sunny's jaw worked as she stared at the two people walking down the road, getting smaller with every step. Mitchell just looked at his fingernails. Cheyenne still sat, obedient and still, breathed at her master's side, tongue hanging out.

Abruptly, she ordered, "Come on, Cheyenne," and broke into a run.


	7. Ahead On Our Way

**SEVEN**

**Goodsprings**

**June 27th**

**09:35**

It did En great pleasure that Sunny had eventually decided to come along. She'd said she didn't even have to go home and pack, and even when En and Ringo had insisted they could wait, she'd refused and just come along with nothing but the clothes on her back and her dog. En had no idea what Mitchell had said to her to convince her to go along, but she was certainly thankful for it. Another thing to thank the curmudgeonly old doctor for.

"Say, miss Sunny, what's that old building?" Ringo asked, breaking the not unpleasant silence that had fallen as they'd left Goodsprings.

"Mm?" Sunny probably had been thinking, just like En. Unlike En, she hadn't been savouring the pleasant feeling of the wind playing through her newly short hair and gently caressing her scalp.

"That building," he repeated, pointing at a large brick house, abandoned but still in a rather good state. There was a white picket fence surrounding it, and a very large yard had once been attached to the building. It seemed to have survived the nuclear war remarkably well.

Sunny squinted against the morning sun. "Old school building, I think. Why?"

"Don't know," Ringo said. "But might be some interesting stuff left in there?"

"At one point, maybe," En opined, "but most of it's probably been looted already."

Ringo shrugged. "Won't hurt taking a look, right?"

"Sure."

"Lot of weeds covering the doors," Ringo pointed out. "If this place was looted, it must have been very long ago."

They stood just outside the school building, and it seemed this was the only way in. None of the windows looked broken, but of course, they could only see one side of the building. Ringo was right, En supposed, so it was worth taking a look inside. En heard a click as Ringo opened the button of his pistol holster.

"Might be critters in there," he explained.

Good thinking. En took out the Beretta and Sunny held Cheyenne closer. En hoped she'd be cool enough to fire straight if something came at them. You never knew until you had to, right? Then again, she'd been cool-headed enough to set off her gadgets at the right moment, so she figured it'd be alright now too.

With his knife, Ringo cut away the weeds and creepers that had overgrown the door. The thing didn't budge from his first push, but when he bumped his weight against it, the door went ajar. Another shoulder push or two, and the door had opened enough to pass through.

"Stay back," he whispered, sneaking inside with his weapon drawn. Maybe he was being a bit overdramatic, but it couldn't hurt to be careful, En supposed. He disappeared in the doorway, Cheyenne nudging past him, Sunny giving her just enough room on her leash to come alongside of Ringo.

"Clear," Ringo whispered. Why did he whisper when it was clear?

Sunny crept in after her dog, and En went last. The school had already been looted, alright. Most of the desks were overturned, books, papers, binders and folders all strewn across the dirty gray-tiled floor. The only living creatures left were flies and other tiny bugs. Dead rats, mantises (ugh, they had _those_ rotten bugs here too!) and a kind of strange, inflated fly species could be found on top, below, next to and between the school stuff. One mantis had been crushed by a toppled desk, and one rat was pinned to the floor with an old-fashioned arrow, which made it clear that humans had already been here. And humans meant looters, in these cases. Yellow light shone in from the cracks between the shutters, dust swirling in the beams.

"Well, looks like we weren't the first," Sunny echoed En's thoughts, pointing at the pinned rat.

"Nope," Ringo agreed, biting his lower lip, his hands in his sides. "Shame, you never know what you'll find in places like these."

"What's the matter, Cheyenne?" Sunny asked abruptly, surprised as the german shepherd gave a single hard tug on her leash. It didn't seem like a petulant or impatient pull, though, and it turned out it wasn't, since Sunny explained, "I taught her to give those tugs when she's smelled something."

Again unholstering his pistol, Ringo slowly walked in the direction of Cheyenne's tug, the dog following his every move, as if making sure he went where he was supposed to.

"I don't think it's danger," Sunny said to Ringo. "Or Cheyenne wouldn't be so calm."

Ringo seemed to have decided to ignore Sunny's advice. He crept forward, towards the teacher's desk, pointed his gun downward, stared for a moment, then put his weapon away. "It's alright, guys. Come see."

A long-dead human corpse, decayed and gnawed to a mere skeleton, lay down behind the teacher's desk, missing half an arm. The bones that remained in the upper arm were broken in several places. A large black scorch mark lay at the body's feet, a semi-circle with its centre being the safe that stood against the wall. The safe itself was closed, but the bottom of the door was blackened and dented.

"Trap?" Sunny asked.

"Mmmno, don't think so," En replied. It seemed pretty clear what must have happened here.

"Killed each other over the loot?" was Ringo's tentative theory.

"Nothing that dramatic either."

"But you know, of course?" Sunny assumed with a smirk.

"M-hm. Blast came from outside the safe, probably an explosive set against the door," she explained. "I'm guessing it was meant to blow the safe open, but whoever did it was a rank amateur."

"And the body?" Ringo asked.

"Our rank amateur," En told him. "Set the explosives against the safe door, did something catastrophically stupid causing them to go off early, taking half his arm with them. Fell back, to the ground, probably with a blood-spurting stump of an arm," she theatrically made the motions of a man being knocked back by an explosion, holding her arm, "…and bled out on the floor."

"Ouch," was all Ringo could say to that.

"Must have been a slow, painful death." Sunny pointed at the safe door. "And all that for nothing. Didn't even get it open."

"Nope. Like I said," En repeated, "rank amateur." Briefly letting her eyes pass over the dead person, she added, "No disrespect intended, of course, buddy."

"And with your mechanical genius," Sunny intoned overdramatically, "surely you can conquer this obstacle?"

"The safe?" she shrugged. "Sure, probably."

Ringo wrung his hands, letting out a growling laugh. "So there was something in here worth looting after all."

"M-hm," Sunny agreed. "Safe's too heavy to move, so if you can't open it here, you can't get to what's inside. I'm guessing that's why nobody's got to it yet."

En kneeled down in front of the safe, inspecting the thing. It was a digital, code-operated model. Good. The models with the dials were much harder to crack, at least for someone with her skill. Usually the batteries on those little keypads lasted forever, but without the code, there was little point in trying to open the safe the conventional way.

She unbuckled her tool belt and laid her tools out in front of her. A small phillips screw driver was usually the best pick, and the same was true here. She unscrewed the front plate of the little computer controlling the safe's lock and gently clicked it off. Now all she had to do was adjust some wires. All that was needed was to make the lock think it got a signal from the computer as a consequence to a valid code sequence entered. Cutting the wire leading from the kepyad to the lock release was easily done, and by briefly connecting it to the lit up display, she sent a small jolt of electricity through it which released the lock. It was always the case with those stupid safes. Trying to beat the code out of someone was just not economical compared to the ease with which even an amateur electrician could fool the lock. Then again, most safes were made to discourage casual burglars, not people who knew what they were doing when it came to machines and devices. With a quiet click, the lock opened and the safe's door came to stand slightly ajar.

"Ah hay!" Sunny exclaimed triumphantly.

"Well done, miss En," Ringo joined in, apparently reverting to his more polite form of address in his excitement.

"So, what's the loot?" Sunny asked, excited, leaning forward and looking over En's shoulders with her hands on her knees.

It seemed to be mostly paper. Snatching the sheets out of the safe, En quickly scanned them, and as she did so, she let out a disappointed groan. Shit, you couldn't be serious. What a god damn bummer. On the papers were written short sentences. "What date was the fall of the Western Roman Empire?", or "Give the atomic mass number of Fe."

"What's wrong En? What are they?" Sunny asked impatiently.

Letting her hands holding the papers fall to the floor, En groaned, "Exam questions."

"Well, that was a disappointment," Ringo remarked dryly as the three (well, four, technically) travelers stood back outside, in the morning sun. The day was warming up nicely, so the afternoon would probably be a scorcher. En contemplated getting the heavy leather get-up off, but she let the thought go for Sunny's sake.

"Well, at least we explored our first creepy place together?" Sunny said.

"Oh, that much is true," Ringo agreed. "It'll be the first of many creepy places we'll find along the way, so having the first one end without calamities is a good sign."

"I feel so connected to you guys, now that we've braved the terrors of the abandoned school building together," En joked.

With a shrug, Ringo pointed out, "We accomplished something together, even if it didn't give any material rewards. And every experience we share makes us work together better."

"Alright, alright," En said with a grin and a roll of her eyes, "I know, I was just being funny."

"Yeah, Ringo," Sunny joined in, punching his shoulder. "No need to take everything that serious all the time."

"Heh. I guess I'm just a serious person, ladies."

"Well," Sunny admitted. "It might be a useful balance for En's childish clownery all the time."

Now it was En's turn to punch Sunny' shoulder. "Hey!"

Cheyenne let out a short bark, but when Sunny rubbed her shoulder with a smile, she seemed reassured.

"Well, ladies, now that we're back in the sunlight, how 'bout continuing our way to Primm?"

"Sure thing," En said, checking her Pip-boy. "Due south, a few hours' travel from here." Frowning at her screen, she added, "Seem to be a few interesting landmarks along the way?"

Sunny shrugged. "Probably. Spotted a drive-in, some rental places, a few old caravan camps and stuff like that along the way last time I went South."

"Might be something worth exploring there," Ringo suggested. "Most people don't have Pip-boys when they travel, so they might have missed a spot or two. And if not, well, you can always feast your eyes on the completely ridiculous statues they've built at NCR's Mojave Outpost you'll see on the horizon when you're close to Primm."

"Ah, yeah," Sunny said slowly, recalling the memory. "What were those about, anyway?"

"Dunno. Never been that far South."

En stopped examining her Pip-boy map and looked up at Ringo. "There's NCR this far East?"

"Oh yeah," he replied. "And even further out too. As far as Hoover Dam, if my information's correct. Shooting it out with the Legion over who gets the power from the Dam."

En blinked. "Legion?"

"Caesar's Legion," Sunny explained. "band of slave drivers pretending they're a legion like in the old Roman Empire days. Even dress that way too. Speak in Latin. Unpleasant bunch."

"Slavers, huh? Did you know that New Arroyo was founded by people on the run from Slavers? We allow everyone to live there, except them. No Slavers. Been a law since the city was built."

"New Arroyo, eh?" Ringo asked, sounding interested. "Never been that far West. Heard it's a nice place to live?"

"M-hm," En said, nodding and smiling. "Small town, but a lot of great people. Bit too snooty about their history sometimes, but can't have it all."

Sunny chuckled. "I think you'll find every town's proud of its history, sweetie. You just notice it more because you're confronted with it every day."

En raised an eyebrow. "How many towns have oversized statues in their square, dedicated to their founders?"

"Uh… alright, I'll give you that one."

"Though judging from what our teacher always taught us, the statue girl must have been _really_ special."

"I'll bet she was," Sunny said, having no idea what she was talking about, but simply being nice. En sighed, thinking of home and all the little things that annoyed her about it, and how they were all insignificant to the great things it had to offer. As she picked up her feet and laid 'em down on the hot asphalt of the Mojave wasteland, a not inconsiderable part of her wanted to be back there now, sitting in Old Cassidy's with an ice cold cola, pining over that hot guy at the bar while her best friend Allison Brooks talked to her and she didn't listen. Or even sitting in miss Bishop's class, with Allison next to her drawing on her notebooks, as she always did, and En bored and still somehow intrigued as her teacher kept gushing over the statue girl and how wonderful she was. Geez, you'd think she was in love with her or something.

"You can see it from here," Ringo remarked, breaking her out of her thoughts. They'd come 'round a hill, and they could now see far across the wasteland to the South. The road they were on went straight to the place Ringo pointed at, taking a dip, along with the landscape, into a feeble slope that seemed to go on for miles. Primm lay at the end of it, a vague, barely perceptible collection of dots on the horizon.

Sunny shielded her eyes from the sun. "What, twenty kilometers?" she guessed.

"Twenty-three, actually," En corrected, checking her Pip-boy. "Got a long walk ahead of us."

Ringo nodded. "We might have to make camp in one of the abandoned places on the way. I suppose it's possible to do it in one day, but the road's practically non-existent a mile or two down, so we'll be walking in the sand, and that's damn tiring."

Reaching into her pocket and feeding Cheyenne her last strip of beef jerky, Sunny said, "Well, might as well get walking then."

Ringo only replied with a flat, "Yep."

As they walked, Ringo and Sunny exchanged words on occasion, but En kept mostly silent, content to listen to them trade stories and small talk. They seemed to be getting along really well, which was definitely nice. Every now and then, when things got a bit quiet, En threw in a joking remark or a question of her own, and they'd be off again, talking about this and that. Of course, En already knew everyone probably got along with Sunny. She had this strange thing about her, that made you like her the instant you talked to her. En considered herself to be someone with a lot of insight in people, and she'd immediately taken a liking, if not to say a kind of awe, for Sunny. She was confident, competent, pretty and caring. As for Ringo, she didn't know him that well, but he seemed like a good guy. Sure, he was a bit stuffy and way too serious at times, but he too seemed like a genuinely likeable person. And not at all ugly either. En had never been bad at making friends, but she was still happy that she'd met these two people and got to travel with them. Sure, her little stupid expedition was a joke compared to what the statue girl had accomplished, but at that moment, she kinda sorta felt a bit like she'd started on a modest version of Lysanna of Old Arroyo's adventure. "Just like the real thing", you know.

"You're quiet, sweetie?" Sunny asked her, taking her back to the here and now.

"Yeah, I'm just enjoying listening to you two chatting," En said. She really was. "And you know, thinking about stuff."

"Bad stuff?" Sunny asked, concerned.

"No, no," she chuckled, then stopped and turned around, toward the two people walking just behind her. "Just being glad I've got you two with me."

"Aww," Sunny said with a smile, putting her arm around En's shoulder. "That's real nice to hear. And I'm glad to be out here with you two. Feels all exciting and adventurous, no?"

"Totally." It really felt like a big sister hug, and En briefly felt a stab of worry at what Mitchell had said. Maybe her affection for Sunny was a sort of big sister complex? Then again, if it was, was that a big deal? She liked Sunny, felt safe around her, and that was the important thing. Not why she felt that way. She was sure Sunny deserved her affection, regardless of the psychological processes which engendered it.

Ringo said nothing, but his face told En he didn't mind being here with them either.

A low growl from Cheyenne ended the moment of silent contentment.

"Cheyenne's noticed something," Sunny informed redundantly.

As one man, they all took their weapons out, only this time, En went for the Remington 700. Open fields meant a lot of space between shooter and target, right? To be honest, that was just fine for her. The farther away, the better.

"There," Ringo pointed at a small valley a ways off the road. "See 'em?"

Even without the scope, En could perceive some sort of flying insects, scooting around in irregular, jagged patterns over what looked like a dead body. They were oddly big, though, especially compared to the size of their wings. Like fat, grayish maggots with membranous wings.

"Bloatflies," Ringo answered her unasked question. "Not too dangerous if you don't let them get close. Bloatflies have this proboscis with really sharp edges, and they use it to tear flesh, then suck up the blood. Kinda like horse flies, only bigger. Two or three bloatflies can kill a brahmin through blood loss."

"No real reason to take shots at them, though, right?" Sunny asked with a shrug.

"Oh, there's a reason alright, to chase them off at least," Ringo disagreed, obviously referring to the dead body.

"What, target practice?" Sunny asked, blinking.

"Uh… no," En said, surprised. "Look, over there."

Sunny frowned at the little valley. "Um… what am I looking for?"

Surely she could see the dead man lying there? It was at a distance, but it wasn't _that_ far either. Ringo and En looked at each other, not understanding.

"I don't see any reason to go shooting at bloatflies that far away," Sunny muttered.

Ringo explained, "Well, not for their sake, no, but…"

"... that dead body might have something worthwhile," En finished.

"What dead b…" Sunny began, squinting at the bloatflies, but she stopped herself.

"_That_ dead body," En pointed out again.

"… Oh."

En hadn't noticed the squinting, but someone else had. Ringo turned to Sunny, a frown on his face. "Sunny… how well can you see?"

"Oh, no, no," she said quickly. "I can see fine, it's just that I wasn't looking at the ground."

He wasn't satisfied. "You're trying to locate a dead body, and you weren't looking at the ground?"

"Yeah, no, I was just…" Sunny stammered, visibly uncomfortable. She clearly 'wasn't just'.

"What about that crow up there?" En asked, pointing at the sky. "You can see that, right?"

Sunny looked up at the sky, and as she did so, En exchanged a quick glance with Ringo, who looked like he understood instantly.

"Yeah," Ringo played along with En. "It's circling right above us."

Crows didn't really circle, but En kept quiet, or it'd ruin her little trick.

Sunny stared up at the sky and let out a pensive, "Uh…"

"Geez, Sunny," En insisted. "It's right up there."

Suddenly Sunny's eyes lit up. "Oh! Right, yeah, over there. I see it."

En and Ringo exchanged another glance.

"Sunny…" Ringo carefully said. "There's no crow up there. I ask again: how well can you see?"

At least she didn't try to lie herself out of it this time. She sighed and lowered her head. "Well enough. It just gets… blurry at long distances." She raised her head again and looked at En. "But I promise you, there's nothing to worry about. I can shoot straight and recognize people if they're not too far away. I mean, it's not like I'm blind or anything."

"No," Ringo admitted, "but it's still something we need to get checked out. Don't want any accidents because you're near-sighted."

"Only just a bit," Sunny countered hastily. "It's nothing bad."

Ringo stuck to a neutral, "Mm."

"Sunny… do you think you'll be okay like this?" En asked carefully.

"Of course, I'll be okay!" Sunny snapped. Cheyenne's ears flicked up in reflex. "Unless you want me to turn back right now and drag my blind ass back to Goodsprings?"

"No, no," En assured quickly. "I'm glad you're here and no amount of myopia can change that. And if you say you're good, then I believe you." She felt sorry for the poor thing. She'd done so much for Ringo and her, and now they were making her feel like they couldn't rely on her.

"You better," she said curtly. "I don't want you guys constantly wondering if I'll shoot you by accident. Cause then I'm out of here. I mean it."

"No, I'm sure it's fine." En managed to keep cool instead of blurting out, 'no Sunny don't go!'. Best twist the conversation back into a positive atmosphere though. "And hey, this way we can take you for glasses-shopping?"

"Ugh. Don't even start about nerd glasses," was all Sunny had to say to that.

Ringo laughed. "Nothing nerdy about glasses. Same way there's nothing gay about men who cut hair."

This time Sunny managed a short chuckle. "Yeah, well, we'll see. You guys study those big-ass flies some more, I gotta go pee. Cheyenne, stay."

As she walked off toward a nearby rock cluster, Cheyenne quietly sitting and watching her go, Ringo quietly said to En, "Nice one with the crow. Got a little suspicion about where you stole the idea though."

With a mysterious smile, En merely said, "My dad had me watch a lot of pre-War western movies."

Grinning back, Ringo nodded. "Let's not go around calling her the Schofield Kid, though, tempting as it may be."

"Nah, let's not."

Ringo quickly shot a look towards the rocks Sunny had disappeared behind. "At least not when she can hear it."

En merely laughed and took her rifle. "Right, let's deal with those fat bugs then."

Suddenly serious again, Ringo nodded. "M-hm. Think you can get 'em from here?"

She looked through the scope of the Remington 700 and saw the bloatflies zoomed in. They truly were repulsive, with bloated gray bodies, compound eyes and a long proboscis, the entire fat body kept aloft by membranous wings that simply seemed way too small to keep their weight in the air. Ugly, coarse hairs stood up between their eyes.

"They're uglier than my neighbour's grandma, but yeah, I think I can make the shot. Bastards move really unpredictably though."

"Mmm-hm," Ringo agreed, obviously finding that a good thing. "This time it's not just stationary bottles, and you'll have someone watching who's far more difficult to impress."

"Hey!" Sunny's voice came from behind them. "I heard that, you scoundrel."

"Now, now, Sunny. All I meant was that I'm a jaded old grumpy-face."

Licking her lips, En peered through the scope of the rifle, tracking the movements of one of the bloatflies. The fat bug zipped surprisingly erratically for its size, and it was hard to keep the crosshair on it. Still, they always seemed to move the same short distances, though in different directions. En's finger closed around the trigger as she kept the crosshair aligned with the bloatfly's movements, trying to predict where it would end up.

As the repulsive insect made its last little zip, En squeezed the trigger, and the shot went off with an echoing _bang_, the bullet speeding through the air faster than any bug could, and both bloatfly and bullet ended up at exactly the same spot, at exactly the same moment. The round struck the fat flying bug in the head, splatting its compound eyes and the rest of its head apart into yellow liquid. The maggoty body was blown backwards, going end over end until it struck the earth as its membranes stopped buzzing.

"Nice one, miss En!" Ringo cheered.

"Damn," Sunny said, awed. "This girl can shoot."

"Could have been a fluke," Ringo cautioned. "Try one more."

En shouldered the rifle again. "Fluke, my firm teenage ass!" Taking aim at another bloatfly, she boasted, "I'm not gonna _try_ one more, I'm gonna _shoot_ one more."

"Do, or do not," Ringo said, nodding sagely.

"There is no try," En muttered, completing the pre-War movie quote and pulling the trigger, her bullet striking the bloatfly in the abdomen, slapping out its guts and sending it twitching to the ground, its insides flying through the air in a gray and yellow mess of sheer awfulness.

"Eww," was all she could say when she lowered the rifle and turned to Sunny and Ringo. "Still, messy or not, it's a kill. Was a bit of a shooting gallery though."

Sunny and Ringo didn't cheer, taking out their weapons.

"What?"

"It's not a shooting gallery anymore," Ringo said dryly.

Sunny clarified, "You uh… seem to have pissed them off."

En turned her head back and saw five bloatflies speeding towards her. And holy crap were they fast! Muttering a "Fuck," under her breath, she lifted the rifle again, drawing a bead on the first bloatfly that her scope fell on. Her finger curled around the trigger, but as she was about to fire, Ringo's weapon went off next to her ear, startling her and messing up her aim. Reflexively, her finger pulled the trigger and her shot went wide. Shit. Ringo fired again, twice, and both times En couldn't stop herself from flinching. Sunny let rip with three shots as well, and En's eyes blinked closed with every one, her scope waddling, unable to centre on the bloatfly. Finally, though, she got it in her sights and blew it apart. They were flying straight at her, so that made it easy. She briefly lowered the rifle to get a look at the state of affairs, and wished she hadn't. Three more bloatflies were coming at them, getting real close now. With a loud bark, Cheyenne launched herself at them, determined to protect her mistress. En lifted her rifle and shot another of the bloatflies to shreds, sending it spinning to the ground, dropping insides as it went, and before Cheyenne could throw herself at the bloatfly heading for Sunny, Ringo pulped its head with a flawless shot. En got the last of the bugs in her sight, but as she squeezed the trigger, nothing happened. Fuck, she was empty!

Sunny fired wildly, all her shots missing as En frantically struggled to reload her weapon, fumbling in her pockets for the ammunition. "Shoot it, god dammit," she shouted pointlessly at Sunny and Ringo. But Sunny was empty as well, and Ringo was snarling, struggling with his jammed weapon. Cheyenne skidded to a halt and charged the last bloatfly, but it had already gotten past her, and the damn things flew faster than any dog could run. Fuccckkkkk!

The Beretta! She dropped her rifle, letting it clatter to the ground (something she'd normally never do – letting technology smack against the stones was blasphemy in her eyes), and pulled her Beretta, struggling to get the bloatfly in her iron sights. But dammit, it wasn't the same as a scope! Sunny, meanwhile, drew her knife, the scraping sound unmistakable.

Just as her finger pulled the trigger, the bloatfly spewed some kind of grayish goop from its proboscis, straight at Sunny. As the mucus sailed through the air, En's bullet cut through it and thwacked into the bloatfly, blasting a spray of yellow out the back of its abdomen.

The bloatfly hit the ground at the same time the slime hit Sunny in the face. She was able to block the worst with her arm, but she still shrieked and staggered back. With a loud "Shit!", Ringo shouldered past En, pulling his kerchief from around his neck. Sunny fell flat on her ass, her hands over her face and still wailing. En stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Sunny, take your hands off your face," Ringo snapped. When Sunny didn't respond, he grabbed her wrists and repeated, "Hands off your face, Sunny!"

With a hard tug, he pulled her hands away. "En, get over here, grab some cloth."

Robotically, En did as she was told, sitting down and pulling a clean handkerchief out of her pocket. Sunny's grimacing face was splattered with gray slimy fluid and her eyes were screwed shut. Oh geez, this wasn't some sort of acid, was it? Oh god what if Sunny went blind because of it or what if it ate through her skin and turned her face into a scarred mess oh god oh god why had she even started this damn trip and if – "

"En! Snap out of it," Ringo shouted, holding back Cheyenne to keep her from licking the slime off. "It's no big deal, but we need to take care of it. Get that mess off her."

Brought back to her senses, En took her handkerchief and wiped some of the stuff off Sunny's face, but as she did so, Sunny let out a cry and Ringo grabbed her wrist.

"_Don't_ wipe! Dab!"

Her heart beating in her throat, En gently dabbed the mucus off Sunny's face. Where the goop came off, the skin was red and swollen. Sunny bit the pain, taking Ringo's kerchief and removing some of the slime as well as she could. Ringo, meanwhile, had his hands full keeping Cheyenne back.

"You alright, Sunny?" En asked shakily.

Sunny let out an "Nnn-hnnn" from between clenched teeth, so En assumed that was a 'yes'.

"Good thing it didn't get into your eyes," Ringo grunted, struggling against Cheyenne. "You'd have been seriously screwed otherwise."

"Tell me about it," Sunny growled.

"I… think that's all," En said, discarding her slime-smeared hankie. "Is… is it bad?"

Ringo let Cheyenne go and inspected Sunny's face while the dog practically pushed her to the ground with its enthusiasm, its tail flicking back and forth. "Nah… bloatfly mucus isn't that dangerous, long as you don't get it in the eyes or something. Seriously painful though."

Cheyenne had settled down somewhat, and En got a good look at Sunny's face too. Her left cheek and forehead were swollen and red, but it didn't look _too_ serious.

"Burns will hurt and itch for a while though," Ringo continued. "Best pick up some ointment in Primm if they have some."

"Hurts like a bitch," was all Sunny had to say.

Ringo shrugged. "You girls asked for some adventure, well, there you go."

"Sure," Sunny grunted, her left eye still closed. "Blame it on us."

En stood up and put her hands in her sides. "Ringo, I thought there 'weren't dangerous unless you let them get close'?"

Ringo stood up as well, leaving Sunny the only one still sitting on her butt. He pointed at the dead bloatfly, only five metres away. "And you don't think this constitutes 'close'?"

"Well… I thought you meant…" she indicated a distance half a metre away. "You know, close."

He scratched his head. "Yeah… should have mentioned they spit expectorate as well. Well, live and learn, yes?"

En merely let out an unsatisfied but facetious "Tch," and picked up her rifle.

"I feel like I've taken a face-dive to a bed of hot coals," Sunny remarked, getting up and carefully opening her left eye. It was bloodshot from the acidic fumes, but seemed fine otherwise. _If still a bit near-sighted_, En thought to herself, but she thought it best not to say that out loud. "… but I'll be fine."

Ringo nodded. "I'm sure you will be. You're a trooper, right, Sunny?"

"Sure am."

En was indescribably relieved that Sunny was okay. Well, a bit corroded, but that'd go away. Phew, for a moment there, she thought something really bad had happened to her. And it seemed Cheyenne had too. She was barking happily, looking up at Sunny. Good thing Ringo had shot the bloatfly before Cheyenne had gotten close, because trying to get that mess off a struggling dog would have been next to impossible.

Sunny sighed. "Alright. I'm good."

"So, we uh… ready to move on?" she asked cautiously.

"No, we're not," Ringo answered curtly.

"Um… why?"

With a scolding frown, he pointed at the rifle in her hands. "Reload your weapon."

"Saw you flinch several times," Ringo remarked out of the blue as En meticulously fit the new rounds into her rifle. "When our guns went off."

"Your noisy bang-bangs hurt my pretty ears," En tried to joke.

"I'm being serious here, kid," Ringo admonished. "You flinched, and you missed shots because of it."

"Uh… yeah, I know," En could only say.

"Oh, you know. Well, I guess that's alright then, huh?"

En stopped walking. "This was my first gunfight, okay, Ringo? What, were you always stalwart and dauntless, standing proud and unfazed in the hail of bullets?"

"She's got a point, Ringo," Sunny intervened. "She did really well for her first time."

"I know, I know, and I'm not trying to have a go at you, En. But I'm just saying, it's something you need to get sorted out. You've only got five rounds in that thing, so misses will cost you. And us."

"Hold on."

"Mm?"

"Another one."

Another one, as in, another seizure. She felt them come on a few seconds before they happened. It was like squiggly fireflies zipped across her vision, and then after a few seconds, there it came. The usually rather quiet ringing in her ears swelled again, becoming a shrieking, deafening agony, and her headache intensified, hammering into her skull with a pounding, blinding pulse. Her vision doubled and she had to hold her head, staggering. All she could hear was a soft, worried whine from Cheyenne, and Sunny asking if she was alright, far, far away. Her stomach suddenly heaved violently, and she coughed up a mouthful of sour bile, feeling it dribble down her chin. Then her vision suddenly blacked out and she lost balance, falling over, onto her side, her teeth smacking together, her vision returning, doubled and blurry, but there. And then, after a few more seconds, the pain slowly began to lessen again, the shrieking going back to its usual, quiet ringing and the pounding in her head returning to the nagging little headache it always was. She let out a raw cough, spat out the rest of the unsavoury content of her mouth into the sand, and tried to get up, supporting herself on her elbows. A pair of hands took hold of her by the upper arms and pulled her to her feet. Her vision still swimming, she found herself looking at Ringo's face.

"Geez, En," he asked, concerned. "How much more of those can you take?"

En could only reply with an inarticulate groan.

"You alright, sweetie?"

She nodded shakily. "I'm… okay. Those seizures just hurt like Hell."

"I can imagine, if you can't even stay on your feet." En felt a hand go through her hair. "Poor thing."

"Hey, I got this cool-ass head scar in return," En groaned. "And I can always use those attacks to get attention from the boys, huh?"

"Still," Ringo said, inspecting her face, as if information about her fits was to be found on there. "If you get one of those paroxysms at a bad time, you could get seriously injured."

"It'd be a pretty freaky coincidence though, if she got one just as we're in a shoot-out or something?" Sunny figured.

"True, but even freaky coincidences happen," Ringo countered. "And besides, I wasn't even thinking of something so dramatic. What if you get one while you're climbing a ladder, or stairs, or if you're close to a cliff edge, or something?"

"I don't know anyone called Cliff Edge, so no worries there," En croaked.

"Sweetie, it's good that you're cheerful about it, but he's right," Sunny told her. "We need to get that checked out."

Still studying En's face intently, Ringo said, "I know a really good doctor in the New Vegas area, close to my caravan office. Nothing against old Mitchell, but if anyone can figure out how to stop those paroxysms, it's her."

"Well," Sunny decided. "Then that's that. We go see this doctor of yours."

He nodded. "Doctor Usanagi, runs the medical clinic just outside Vegas. She's great at what she does."

"Usanagi," Sunny repeated. "Got it."

"Safe to let you go?" Ringo asked En. He was still supporting her, holding her by the biceps.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."

"Get moving then?"

She nodded, taking a water bottle from her belt to wash her mouth with. "M-hm."

"Uh, guys, aren't we forgetting something?" Sunny asked with a grin, her hands in her sides.

"Are we?" Ringo asked, not understanding.

"Uh huh. I may be near-sighted, but my memory's better than yours."

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Right!"

The dead body had at one time been a Powder Ganger, so good riddance to bad rubbish and all that. It had been a pretty ugly sight though. The man's eyes had been eaten away, with white fly eggs studding the edges of his ocular cavities, and the bloatflies had also laid eggs in the unfortunate gentleman's mouth, nose, ears, torn-open stomach, and in the bullet holes in his chest… and probably in other places not really worth contemplating.

He'd been carrying an old Browning nine millimeter, which Ringo had promptly dismissed as worthless, but which En had recognized for the treasure trove of spare parts that it was, and she'd stashed it in her pack. Sunny already had her knife, and Ringo had a mean-looking weighted club hanging from his belt, so En got the telescopic baton the Powder Ganger had had with him. A not inconsiderable amount of cash was found in the man's backpack, as well as several strips of beef jerky, much to Sunny's (and probably Cheyenne's) joy. An unopened bottle of beer, an ear of corn, two clips of 9mm ammunition, an inhaler of Jet, a small bottle of zippo fluid and a stimpak, which you simply couldn't have enough of, had completed the haul. Not bad, and worth the excitement of the bloatfly attack, but Sunny probably disagreed on that one. The corn was worthless and therefore chucked away, the beer went into Ringo's pack, the lighter fluid would be used to burn the Powder Ganger, and more importantly the bloatfly eggs hatching in his remains, and the Jet inhaler, well, drugs or no, those things fetched a good price, so it was worth hanging on to, even if Sunny would probably protest when they'd try to sell it.

En checked her Pip-boy. "There's a landmark not far from here. Gas station, looks like. If we get a move on, we might be able to camp there, how's that sound?"

Ringo groaned. "A gas station? I was hoping I'd have spent my last night in one of those." He stood spraying the zippo lighter fluid over the dead Powder Ganger.

Sunny grinned. "Whiner."

Ringo studied the flame on the head of his match, then tossed it onto the dead man, igniting the lighter fluid. "Alright. Let's get a move on."


	8. Time for a Rest

**EIGHT**

**Interstate 15**

**June 27th**

**1****8:49**

"That's the old Highway Patrol station over there, right?" En asked, pointing at the steel canopy half a kilometre away. They'd been walking for a few hours after the bloatfly incident, and En's feet had started hurting from trudging through the sand. The asphalt had disappeared a long time ago.

Sunny uselessly squinted and clearly couldn't confirm or deny En's assumption, but Ringo nodded, "Yes, the cop shop. Think there was a race track nearby too."

This Sunny could confirm. "M-hm. Ivanpah Dry Lake, but it's past Primm, still a ways further. Infested with giant ants these days, from what I've been told."

"Probably lots of car wrecks worth checking out then?" En suggested.

Sunny laughed. "It wasn't that kind of race track. Land sailing mostly."

En scratched her head. "What the Hell is land sailing?"

"Sailing," Ringo answered dryly. "On land."

Sunny raised an eyebrow at him. "Lame attempts at being funny is En's job, Ringo."

"Hey!"

"You're right," Ringo admitted. "Should leave it to the experts."

"_Hey!_"

Sunny giggled, and Ringo grinned at the horizon.

"So when you meanies are done ganging up on me," En said, "how 'bout answering my question?"

"Land sailing," Sunny explained, "is riding a wheeled vehicle equipped with a sail. So yeah, sailing on land."

En could only remark, "What a retarded idea."

"Well, it must have been fun," Ringo said with a shrug, "because this was a real tourist attraction back in the day."

En shook her head. "Pre-War people were _crazy_."

"I dunno. Guess I could see people enjoying themselves with land sailing," Sunny figured. Cheyenne followed the conversation intently, though she had no idea what was being said, her eyes going back and forth between the talking people.

"They had _cars_ and stuff," En argued. "I mean, what are you gonna do riding some stupid sailing soapbox if you have actual running cars? I mean, I can understand jumping out of flying planes, like they did in that Jean Sky Diving place we passed earlier, but _this_?" She shook her head. "I mean, they must have looked like complete morons in their sail-driven wooden boxes."

"That's three times you said, 'I mean'," Ringo said with a weary sigh. "The world was different back then, kiddo."

"Could you uh… not call me that?" En asked cautiously. The word brought back memories. Of a checkered suit and a gaping hole of a gun barrel. "It's…" she pointed at the side of her head, "… what _he _called me."

Ringo didn't make a fuss. "Understood, little lady."

En smiled. "Better."

They'd reached the patrol station. "Make camp here?" Sunny asked, sounding eager to do so.

Ringo merely shrugged.

"Our first night together," En announced with exaggerated bombast, as if she was about to start telling a Halloween horror story. "Exciting!"

"Uh…" Ringo asked insecurely. "What exactly are you planning with us, little lady? Because if you're some kind of black widow that eats males after preying on them sexually, that I really wouldn't be able to handle."

"As if," En scoffed. "You're old enough to be my dad, you old person."

"Mmm. I suppose I am, if it's common for men to have children at ten years old."

"How 'bout you two shut up and get your chattering selves inside that gas station, huh?" Sunny told them. "You sound like two old women."

Ringo lowered his head ostentatiously. "Yes, dear."

The Highway Patrol station wasn't much of a station anymore. All the desks had been moved to one side a long time ago, and in its last days, it had apparently been used as a garage, with the carcasses of police vehicles occupying about three quarters of the room. All the trunks had been broken open, most likely by weapons looters. It wasn't cosy, but it was a roof over their heads. With a sigh, Ringo let his bedroll fall to the ground and kicked away a desiccated radroach corpse. "You know, I was hoping I'd spent my last night in a cramped old place filled with broken down cars after Goodsprings."

"If it wasn't for En," Sunny said with a smirk, "You'd still be in that gas station."

"This is true," Ringo admitted.

"So uh," En asked, "who takes first watch?"

"Watch?" Sunny echoed, patting Cheyenne's head. "We don't need a _watch_."

"Heh, no, suppose we don't. I discovered that a few days ago. Still have dog slobber on my jacket."

Sunny gave Cheyenne a big hug. "She was just looking out for me, like a good girl."

Cheyenne let out a bark in response.

"I don't have a bedroll though," En said, looking around for a suitable surface to sleep on.

"No problem, little lady," Ringo sang out, pulling the back seat out of one of the police cars. "The police are your friends."

En wasn't a fan of cops, though most of the guys and girls in blue back home were pretty cool. For cops, at least. To call them friends would be a bit inaccurate.

Ringo plunked the seat down on the ground, dust flying up as it came down. "Your bed, milady."

With a sour face, En stared at the dusty old back seat. "It's probably got its own ecosystem by now."

Still smiling, Ringo walked to the first aid cabinet, pulled out a fire blanket and tossed it to En. "To keep your peach-soft skin clean, your highness."

Spreading the blanket over the car seat, En acknowledged, "Ringo, you think good thoughts."

"Of course I do." Then he clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "And now, dinner time!"

"Now this I like," Sunny cheered along. "Whatcha got, Ringo?"

Grinning stupidly, Ringo dug in his pack and triumphantly held up three packs of instant noodles. "The main fare of every weary traveller!"

"And probably the only thing you can actually prepare without accidents?" En goaded.

"Your worshipfulness, I hereby wish to inform you that I'm a fine cook. My excellence in the preparation of dishes is unparalleled."

En giggled, "Alright Ringo, I believe you."

"Less talk, more cook," Sunny interjected. "Get your butt moving, Ringo."

"Aye aye!"

With nimble and quick fingers, Ringo produced a portable little blue gas stove, a small dented pot, and a bottle of water. "Hey, you're caravaneer, or you're not." Shifting on his ass several times to make himself maximally comfortable, he poured the bottle in the pot, set the pot on the stove, and lit the gas with his lighter.

"And now…" he announced pompously, "… we wait."

Even though all three knew what a watched pot never did, they still sat staring at the water, hugging their legs, as the first tiny bubbles formed on the bottom of the pot, and those tiny bubbles grew bigger and bigger, until the water had become a bubbling, steaming mass. With delicate, calculated movements, Ringo tore the packs of noodles open and gently lowered them into the boiling water. He tossed the powder and oil packets into a corner. Probably best. The stuff would be stale and clotted anyway.

"Cheyenne not eating?" Ringo asked as he stirred the instant noodles.

"Sure," said Sunny, "but she eats after us. The doggies always eat after the peoples. Keeps them modest." She scratched the dog behind the ear.

"I see. Well, dinner time."

En's stomach let out a sympathetic growl as Ringo made the announcement. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was until she'd smelled the noodles.

"We'll be eating out of the same pot, but let's just see it as camaraderie, yes?"

"I'll be your comrade all you want if I can stuff my face with your noodles."

"Sounds kinky," En remarked, earning her a playful slap on the back of the head from Sunny. "Watch the head, you big mean brute!" She was joking, but the slap still sent sharp stings of pain through her brain.

Sunny grinned and said, "Sorry. You earned that one though."

"Just slap my ass next time or something."

Pulling a forkful of stringy noodles out of the pot, Ringo muttered, "that would be child molesting."

"I'm not a child," En scolded. "I'm a _teenager_."

"A teenage child, right," Sunny couldn't resist.

"Cheyenne, permission to slap your master silly?" En asked the dog, who only looked back with puzzled eyes.

"Your gracefulness, dinner is served," Ringo broke off the little jab-fest.

"Ah, excel – "

Cheyenne stopped all conversation with an urgent scratching at Sunny's boot. And even though Ringo didn't know the dog any better than En, he was immediately and silently on his feet, pulling out his weapon. En insecurely drew her Beretta as well, and Sunny slid her knife out of its sheath. "Someone's out there."

The garage gate hadn't been rolled all the way down, and through the cracks, they saw shapes moving.

"They went in here. Two women, a dog and a guy."

"Three bitches and a guy then."

"Ha ha ha."

"Shut up, idiots, they'll hear."

"Nah, these gates block sound."

"See those cracks? Now shut up. Let's do this quick and clean."

There was the _clack_ or a pistol breech being pulled back, and without warning, Ringo let rip, rapid-firing bullets through the garage gate and into the shapes behind them. Reflexively, En pulled the trigger on her Beretta as well, blowing more holes in the gate. Cheyenne barked like mad amid the noise. After three shots, En realized there wasn't a single shape left standing. Ringo calmly let the clip drop out if his pistol and slid in a new one. "Stay here."

"Like Hell," Sunny hissed, coming with him through the door next to the garage gate. "You stay here, En."

"Like Hell," En echoed Sunny.

The three people dressed in NCRCF armour lay sprawled in the dust, their weapons dropped beside them. One had carried a revolver, the female an old FN GP pistol, and the other male had a stick of dynamite in his still-twitching hand. A lighter had fallen from the fingers of his other. The man with the revolver was dead, half his face had been shot off, his teeth lying in a spray of blood on the sand. The two others were still alive, the female shot twice in the chest and the male had taken two to the torso and two to the belly. The female was in her death throes, twitching and kicking, but the remaining man, surprisingly, still had clear and lucid eyes, panting on the ground as a runner of blood slowly issued from his mouth.

Without a word, Ringo stooped and picked up the stick of dynamite. The eyes of the downed man went wide. Meanwhile, the female let out her last breath with a slow gurgle.

"I should stick this up your behind and light it," Ringo mused, turning the dynamite over in his hands. "But my female companionship might not appreciate it."

"No," En told him. "We might not. They're still people."

"Quite," was all Ringo had to say to that. Then he calmly shot the Powder Ganger in the face.

"That's… cold, Ringo," Sunny said carefully.

He holstered his weapon. "You didn't see what this scum did to the people of my caravan."

"No. Guess not."

"Well," En said, "They _were_ here to kill us, so it was us or them, like in Goodsprings, right?"

Sunny nodded. "You're right of course."

"Always. Now let's loot?"

"Sure, we can always check if th – " Ringo was cut short by a bullet twanging off the wreck closest to him. It was a pretty ludicrous miss, but still close enough to make them all duck.

"Shit, a lookout!" Sunny hissed. "Cheyenne, inside!"

With an acknowledging bark, Cheyenne took cover inside the Highway Patrol station.

"Oh this is fun," Ringo remarked, ducking behind a car wreck as Sunny and En had done. "And my noodles are getting soggy in there."

Another bullet impacted the patrol station wall, sending a puff of dust flying out of the masonry.

"I'm pretty sure those noodles are being licked up by someone right now," En informed him.

"I… don't think that's far from the truth," Sunny admitted sheepishly.

Ringo shook a comical fist at Sunny. "Damn you, woman and your dog! Damn yoooou!"

"So what do we do about our potshot professional?" En asked the others. Between all the idiocy, they'd almost forgotten that someone was taking shots at them.

Ringo risked a quick look. "I can't even see him, so he's probably far off, so not a bad marksman. But he's a fool. Got the sun in his eyes." Indeed, the sun was setting on the far side of the police station, making the sniper's position very poorly chosen. "Took his sweet time to fire his first shot too. Rifle, miss En?"

With a sigh, En put her Winchester into position. As she did so, a bullet immediately ricocheted off the car wreck she hid behind. "Eep."

"He won't hit you easily if you stay behind cover," Ringo told her. "Just take aim, and shoot the guy." He held out his hand. "Want me to do it?"

"No chance." In the crosshair of her scope, she could actually see him. He was a long way off, and it would be just as hard to hit him, as it would be for him to hit her. She peered through the scope and saw him in about the same position she was. Only a head and a rifle showing. There was another muzzle flash, and En felt something zip through the air next to her head. Close one. Startled, she brought her weapon back into position, aimed slightly above the other sniper's head, and fired.

She didn't know if it was luck or skill, but with the first shot, a blast of blood blew out of her target's head, and all she saw was the rifle barrel coming up and then disappearing with the shooter as he fell.

"Got him," she said flatly.

Ringo peered into the distance. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"That… that shot was practically impossible for an untrained marksman," Sunny breathed, even though she probably couldn't gauge the distance with her near-sighted eyes. "That's just… wow."

"Blind luck, could be," Ringo thought out loud, "But I'm thinking it's more than that."

With a smirk, En lowered her rifle. "I'm just _that_ good."

"Seems like you are," Sunny agreed. "If I had a little bulls-eye patch, I'd sow it on your sleeve."

"My noodles!" Ringo cried out abruptly and stormed into the patrol station, flailing his arms. And with exaggerated drama, "Maybe some can still be saved! We must fight for the little ones!"

Sunny stood shaking her head. "He sure is weird. I mean, one moment he's all cold and detached, and the next he's acting goofy and childlike."

"Yeah," En agreed. "I think he has a problem." She meant it. Not a problem in the sense of a psychopathy, but more like a suppressed emotional handling. Trouble keeping varying emotions in check. Something like that.

"I'm sure it's fine. I think it's kinda adorable."

"Do you now?" En asked mischievously.

Sunny half-shrugged. "Maybe a bit yeah."

"Something nice growing there?"

"Don't be so nosy, sweetie," Sunny said with a raised eyebrow. "The more I tell you, the more ammunition you have to make silly jokes."

"Ha," En laughed. "I gotta admit that's true."

But En had seen Sunny's eyes stray to Ringo a while ago already, and it would seem Ringo wasn't too adverse from getting attention from her as well. Well, at least from what she could make out through his strange behaviour anyway. And En certainly wouldn't mind them spending more time with each other. Well, if they matched, of course.

"Come on, let's go loot that sniper guy," Sunny ended both their thoughts.

"Uh, excuse me?" En asked.

"What?"

She pointed at the police station. "Noodles?"

Cheyenne had left the noodles miraculously untouched. They were soggy from sitting in the water too long, but neither En nor her companions found it necessary to object. Ringo had re-heated the water and was twirling his fork into the mushy noodles. "Ladies, they aren't in the best condition, but I saved their little lives!" he announced proudly.

En mimicked the sound of a crowd cheering.

The noodles tasted awful, but divine. En's stomach growled violently when she lifted the first forkful to her mouth.

"So, where are you from, miss Sunny?" Ringo asked. It seemed if he was feeling safe or contented, he put honorifics before names and became much more formal. Most people worked the other way around.

Somewhat embarrassed, Sunny answered, "I uh, came from what's left of Mexico around ten years ago. Parents both dead, so I was nothing but a little girl on her own. Kinda like En here." She put an arm around En's shoulder affectionately. "Only ended up in Goodsprings two years ago roughly. Spent the rest trekking. You?"

Ringo fished for another forkful of soggy noodles. "Army brat. My parents were both NCR troopers. Spent my days travelling with them from base to base, really. Army life wasn't something my preferences leaned towards though. Too restricted and organized. I prefer something less predictable."

"Like caravanning?" En asked, chomping a mouthful of noodles.

"You'd be surprised how varying the caravan life is, miss En," he pointed out, even though En had never meant anything to the contrary. "If you have a good crew, it's one of the most exciting things to do. You see the world, meet interesting people,…"

"Wasn't that the Army?" Sunny couldn't resist.

Ringo chuckled. "No one likes a smart pants, miss Sunny. But yes, that's my reason for being a caravaneer."

"So where are your parents now?" Sunny asked.

"Mother's still a field medic, but she doesn't go out on patrol anymore, she's stationed at Camp Echo. Father's dead. Killed in action."

"Sorry to hear that."

Ringo shrugged. "Don't be. I'm sure he'd say that serving your country is worth dying for."

"You need to be willing to die for something…" Sunny began.

With a nod, En completed, "Or you'll live for nothing."

"Exactly," Ringo concluded, standing up and slapping imaginary dust off his pants. "Now let's go see what we can score from our careless Powder Ganger friends."

Dusk was falling when they emerged outside, and the air had cooled pleasantly. The three corpses still lay between the car wrecks, much less pleasantly.

"Bury them?" Sunny asked.

Ringo merely shrugged in response.

"Maybe Cheyenne would like some dessert?" En joked.

"Ew, no. I love her too much to let her eat herself sick on this scum. Besides, once a dog's tasted human flesh, you need to put her down, because she'll bite again."

"Huh. Didn't know that."

"M-hm. And I love my Chey too much to ever put her down." The dog seemed to have understood, because she barked cheerfully.

Ringo kneeled next to the bodies. "Right. Loot."

The pickings were meagre, but it was better than nothing. The pistol was a nine millimetre, so at least that was good for a few scavenged rounds. The revolver was a ridiculously old .357, partially rusted through. Still, the twenty rounds of ammo might fetch a few caps. Ringo triumphantly recovered a pack of instant potato mash from the packs of one of the Powder Gangers, and the three bottles of water completed the replacement for the meal they'd just had. But the main prize was the sniper's weapon. It was a Springfield Armory XM-21. In itself a rather old weapon, but chambered in 7.62x51mm NATO calibre, so considerably more powerful than the Varminter's cartridge. And it was in pristine condition, with two extra full clips of twenty rounds included. It hadn't brought its owner much luck though. He lay in the sand, legs and arms wide open, and the top of his skull blown open. What remained of his face looked about twenty years old, much younger than the other Powder Gangers they'd fought. En couldn't help but feel a stab of pity at the man's fate.

"Don't be sorry for this scum," Ringo said, pointing at the happy-face tattoos in the man's side. There were seven smiley-faces tattooed on his skin. "One for every rape," he explained. "These men are all convicted felons that broke free, miss En. Please remember that, no matter how young or unfortunate they look."

"Yeah… guess you're right," she admitted. "But still, what possesses someone to become like this? To tattoo smiley faces on himself to show off… well, that."

Ringo sighed. "I don't know, miss En. I honestly don't know."

As the wind played with their hair, Ringo put an arm around En. It was a friendship-arm, that was pretty clear, and En didn't mind. Then he let her go and they walked back to the police station. Ringo briefly and summarily dumped the dead bodies in a ditch, to keep them out of sight.

"So uh… we sleeping all together?" Sunny asked when En and Ringo came back to the police station, En triumphantly bearing her new weapon. Sunny was sitting in the sand, cleaning Cheyenne's eyes with a tissue. The dog patiently sat at attention while Sunny wiped its eyes.

"Well, there's only one big room in this place. It's one big garage. So… yeah, I suppose."

"Not in the same sleeping bag though," En made clear.

"Speak for yourself," Sunny joked, but the slight nervousness in her voice made it clear it could very well be more than a joke.

Ringo didn't seem to have heard, busily rummaging in his backpack and taking out an inflatable pillow. En was envious of the man for having thought of everything. Still, the car seat would make for a nice bed too. She contentedly took a breath and let out a quiet burp tasting of noodles. Which reminded her she'd have to get her hands on a toothbrush as soon as possible. Hers had mysteriously disappeared from her pack when Sunny had recovered it back in Goodsprings. An old, stale breath mint would have to suffice to keep her mouth at least a little bit fresh.

As if brought on by the memory, her headache intensified again. Letting out a disappointed groan, she lay down on the car seat (it actually smelled far less awful than she'd feared) and pulled her sleeping bag over her, taking off her heavy leather get-up inside the sleeping bag. Ringo might be an okay sort, but that still didn't mean she'd have to let him get a nice look of her underwear.

Sunny wasn't bothered by such trivialities. After stripping off her leather pants and jacket, she drained one of the water bottles they'd claimed from the dead Powder Gangers, in her underwear. She might be short, but she had a nice body, even En could easily see that. Then, with a sigh, Sunny crawled into her sleeping bag and turned over inside it a few times, mm-ing as she looked for the ideal position.

"Sleep tight, guys," En sang out to the others. It was weird telling these people goodnight, people she'd only known for two days, but it was a good kind of weird.

Ringo kicked off his jeans and wriggled himself into his sleeping bag. He stared at the ceiling. "Normally at this point, I'd tell Chipper he'd beat me at caravan someday, and give Tina a kiss on the forehead and tell her to wake me if there was anything wrong."

Sunny reached over to his sleeping bag and squeezed his hand. "Were you and Tina… close?"

He sighed. "I cared about her a lot, yeah."

"Girlfriend?"

He laughed. "Miss Sunny, Tina was Chipper's daughter, twelve years old."

"Oh." That sure sounded relieved. Sunny must have realized her relief was seriously inappropriate too, because she immediately corrected, "Twelve, that's so sad. I'm just… so sorry."

"Yeah. That's alright, you didn't do anything wrong. She and her father were good people, making an honest living, and they were killed by the Powder Gang, and the Powder Gang is going to pay. Every last one."

"How do you beat someone at driving a caravan, though?" En asked, mostly to shift the conversation topic. She didn't want Ringo getting vengeful. It did seem a bit weird to her though, beating someone at caravan driving. Maybe there were, like, races or games they played during caravan drives?

Ringo laughed, apparently glad to change the subject too. "It's not driving a caravan. Caravan's a card game."

"Ah, right! Well, you can teach me to play caravan," En said cheerfully, "And Sunny can laugh every time I lose."

"You survived a shot to the head," Sunny said. "I'm pretty sure with your luck, not even Ringo will beat you."

"Well, to be honest," Ringo explained, his rather gloomy mood thankfully somewhat alleviated by the girls' good cheer. "I'm the second-worst caravan player in the world. Chipper was the worst. He didn't mind though, always kept his good cheer. Which is why we called him Chipper, of course."

"Well, for what it's worth," Sunny told him, "You have us now to play cards with, right?"

"M-hm."

"_Not_ that we want to replace your friends," she added hastily.

"I know, it's alright."

"You okay?" En asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "Just miss my old road buddies, you know."

"Of course you do," Sunny agreed. "We're here if you want to talk though?"

He smiled thinly. "Thanks, but I'm not a talking kinda guy. I'll be fine though."

"Well," Sunny grunted, turning over and turning off the flashlight she'd used as a night light. "The offer's there if you want it. Coupon can be redeemed at any time."

"It's alright. Sleep well, girls."

"You too, Ringo," En said. "And you, Sunny. And… I guess, Cheyenne."

"Dogs don't sleep like we do," Sunny's voice came from the darkness. It wasn't pitch-black but En's eyes would need time to adapt so for now, she didn't see anything. Her head ached like the Hells, though. "They sleep in really short, light phases," Sunny explained. "So she'll probably be moving around a lot and keeping you guys awake."

"Sokay," En said. "That way at least we know she's alive and kicking."

"Absolutely."

Groaning contentedly, En turned over in her sleeping bag. The car seat was actually a pretty good bed. And she looked forward to a good night's sleep, headache or no.

She lay in silence for a while. It had gotten cold outside, and the cold was slowly seeping into the police station, and from there, into their sleeping bags, making it difficult for En to fall asleep, especially with the headache keeping her awake. Still, she was mostly comfortable, and lay thinking pleasant thoughts of home. Of her and Allison gushing over Christopher the bartender, well, mostly En, because Allison seemed to be mostly in love with long-dead comic book artists, but still. Of her playing soccer with her classmates in the yard behind the police station and accidentally kicking the ball through Chief Gray's window, the Chief coming out looking angry and En thinking she'd be in for it now, the Chief saying he'd show them how to play soccer, and with his power-armoured boot, kicking the ball impeccably into the cross-section, cheering for himself, and telling the kids to keep at it before proudly marching back into the station. Of her and Allison conning Chitsa into giving them a few sweets extra when they went to buy meat. Fun things. Because all things considered, New Arroyo was a pretty great place to live. It had its faults, mostly being unadventurous and boring, but En had to admit she'd had a great childhood there. She wondered how Allison was doing. Probably still doodling on every writeable surface she saw. Though it wasn't really doodling anymore. Allison was becoming quite the artist, even miss Bishop had been impressed when she'd caught her drawing on her note books.

She heard the swishing of a sleeping bag moving, and Sunny whispering, "I'm cold." There was a man's tired groan, and another sleeping bag moving. Then Sunny again, letting out a contented, "Mm." Her breath changed to a sleep rhythm in a few seconds, as did Ringo's.

En smiled in the darkness. Sunny was slowly making progress, it would seem. En didn't really have need of an arm around her, especially from an "old guy", but it sure was cold. A hairy, warm presence pressed itself against her chest. Well, at least the dog loved her. Her smile broadening, she put her arm around Cheyenne and fell asleep.


	9. Motion of a Finishing Blow

**NINE**

**Old Highway Patrol Station**

**June 28th**

**06:32**

Cheyenne had abandoned En's symbiotic embrace during the night and was lying on the ground a ways further, her nose against Sunny's free hand. Sunny and Ringo were still lying against each other, though they were still in their respective sleeping bags. Which was a bit of a relief. It would be kinda eww to start fidgeting at each other with En also in the room. Well, and Cheyenne too, probably. Though she wouldn't really mind that much. Both Sunny and Ringo were still sleeping soundly, their chests slowly rising and falling.

En had woken up with a pounding headache, but that wasn't what had interrupted her sleep. The throbbing bladder was most likely responsible for that. Great, pee time. Her favourite time of the day. Groaning, she rolled to her side and pulled up her knees to take the pressure off her bladder, and hopefully get some more sleep.

She told herself not to focus on the full bladder, but to think of other things. What would Allison be doing right now? Probably sleeping, right. Gah, that train of thought led nowhere. Something else. Lieutenant Delko would probably be doing the night shift, just finishing up his rounds and humming to himself. It was a habit he'd picked up in the later years, and he annoyed his co-workers incessantly with it. Especially the sergeant with the scar over his eye, man, could he ever get worked up over little things. En didn't like him that much. She didn't like anyone who got irritated easily and didn't look on the bright side of life.

Okay, happy thoughts. From what she'd gathered from the Travels of the Chosen One-book written by her mother, Lysanna of Arroyo had started out much the same way En did, travelling alone, picking up companions on the way, and seeing her relatively small task evolve into a huge quest that had led to the destruction of an entire nation and the foundation of her city. Of course, En's little expedition didn't look like it would take on massive proportions any time soon, but it was fun to dream, right?

Though, to be entirely honest, for En personally, it didn't really need to be such a world-shattering epic. Just getting some answers from the man that had tried to kill her and then going home would suit her just fine. She couldn't wait to see Allison again. The first thing they'd do would probably be going to Cassidy's and gush.

Pale dawn crept in through the cracks in the garage gate. Somewhere out there were the three Powder Gangers they'd killed, dead bodies that could no longer harm a soul, but they did creep her out just by being there. Hey, they'd deserved it though. They'd come to kill En and her friends, so there was no point trying to make excuses for them. Still, she'd killed them, same as the Powder Gangers in Goodsprings. _It ain't easy killin' a man_, En remembered the words of an old pre-War movie. _You take away everything he has. Everything he's ever gonna have. _Cheyenne briefly whined, opened her eyes, licked her mistress' knuckle, and fell asleep again. En's bladder throbbed.

God dammit! With a quiet groan, she threw her sleeping bag off her, making goose bumps break all over her skin, and after making sure Ringo was fast asleep, she crept out of the police station, quietly closing the door behind her. That was the shitty thing about peeing (no pun intended), you could postpone it all you wanted, but sooner or later, you were gonna go.

In her undies, and feeling positively cold, En quietly tiptoed to the other side of the garage, and behind the building, she dropped her panties and squatted. How she hated these moments. Biting the burning pain, she let her bladder empty itself. The throbbing that came off her lower belly was replaced by a searing pain between her legs. After a few seconds that seemed to last forever, the last drops were finally out. En wiped away the tears that had sprung in her eyes, stood, and hitched her panties up. The burning sensation gradually lessened. In a few minutes it would be gone again, leaving only that annoying, but thankfully painless itch. She had to get it checked out, but every day she told herself she'd let it get looked at the next day. And so the days had become weeks.

And as if the burning genital pain wasn't enough, she felt her headache intensifying as squiggly fireflies zipped across her vision. Oh fuck. Leaning against a bank of sand for support, she waited for the seizure. And true enough, there it was, her vision blurring as her head began to pound so hard she had to close her eyes. Again the shrieking in her ears blocked all hearing and her stomach began tumbling and contracting. Her knees almost buckled, but swaying, she remained standing. A loud belch, still tasting of noodles, was driven out of her throat, and then the seizure slowly began to fade, the shrieking going down and the pounding in her head slowly diminishing. Those seizures were even worse than the groin pain. Ringo had asked her how many of those she could take, and frankly, she had no idea. She didn't even know if they did permanent damage. Maybe every seizure was like a brain infarct, part of her brain dying off, you know, like hearts did. Or maybe it just killed off a load of brain cells.

Gah, stop it! No point worrying about that. Plus, she'd been _shot in the head_. Every brain cell she had left was a miracle in itself.

She half-staggered back to the front of the police station, but took a moment to look at the horizon, the cold temporarily forgotten. Primm was close now, she could already make out the rollercoaster that Sunny had said was Primm's primary landmark. It was still far away, but perceptible in the pale blue light of dawn. Crap, the Mojave was cold at night. God damn desert. She shivered, rubber her upper arms, and sneaked back into the station, creeping to her sleeping bag and curling up inside it. There was still some vestigial warmth inside it. Not much, but enough to make her curl up to absorb every bit of it. It wasn't the warm, cozy bed of home, but it was certainly better than standing out there in the cold, feeling her skin crawl as it tried to break into even bigger goosebumps.

Despite the latent burning in her groin and the mildly pulsing headache, En awoke an hour later. She must have slept, because she'd dreamed. It had been a weird dream of elevators that floated and led her to a castle like the ones she'd seen in pre-War magazines about tourist destinations in Europe. She wondered what had become of Europe. Probably the same thing that had happened in North America, or "the United States of America", as the Enclave had called it.

Cheyenne had crawled back against En's sleeping bag and was now lying on her side, whining softly in her sleep. Both Sunny and Ringo were still asleep, in the same positions they'd been an hour ago, except that Sunny's mouth now gaped wide open.

Pulling her clothes toward her, en clawed for her Pip-Boy. It was ten to eight. A good hour to rise, yes? In her sleeping bag, she changed underwear, put on a bra, and got her T-shirt on. Getting her legs into the tangled ball that was her pants was somewhat difficult, but manageable. The police station had warmed up somewhat, and En saw the morning sun shining in brightly through the cracks in the gate. Amazing how a desert could go from hot to cold and back again so quickly. She kicked her sleeping bag off her and called out, "Sunny! Ringo! Wakey-wakey!"

Sunny groaned, felt around for her boot, and flung it in En's general direction.

"You always so cranky when you have to get up?" En chuckled, lighting Ringo's stove and setting some water to boil. The man would doubtless have instant coffee in that backpack of his. It would be coffee tasting slightly of noodles, but what the Hell.

"I'm always cranky in the morning. And when someone points it out," Sunny grunted, her voice muffled by her pillow, "I get even angrier."

"Some coffee will cheer you up. Where's your instant coffee, Ringo?"

"Haven't got any," he muttered, feeling his face, mapping out the wrinkles his inflatable pillow had left on it. His usually meticulously parted hair stood upright.

"No coffee?" Sunny whined. "Screw this road trip."

"Seriously?" En asked. "No coffee? I thought you were prepared for everything?"

"Our coffee supply was on the cart when the caravan got attacked," he explained, peeling his sleeping bag off him. "Couldn't grab it."

"Oh." Might be best not to be too silly about that.

He stood up and stepped into his jeans, hitching them up. "Got some tea left though?"

Blargh, tea. Still, it was better than nothing. "Sure, where is it?"

"Side bag."

Sunny seemed intent on falling asleep again, lying with her back to En, still wrapped in her sleeping bag. Cheyenne trotted over to her and lay down with her mistress.

"Come on, miss Sunny, a bright new day lies in store for our intrepid fellowship," Ringo encouraged.

Sunny's only response was to grab her second boot and chuck it towards Ringo. The boot missed its intended target, bounced on the ground, and neatly knocked over the little stove and the heating water on it. The metal pot hit the ground with a loud _blang_, and the water splashed out onto the weathered, dusty tiles.

"Oh yeah, nice shot, Sunny!" En snapped, irritated. "Maybe there's some more nutritional articles you'd like to victimize? A piece of jerky to defiantly snap? A sandwich to stomp into the sand? A bag of candy to wipe a booger on?"

Sunny only replied with a sheepish, "Oops."

"Now now," Ringo soothed. "We still have one water bottle."

"See?" Sunny tried to save face. "It's no big deal."

"True," En admitted. "And seeing how those Powder Ganger fools are lining up to get shot and looted by us, we won't be running short on water any time soon."

Ringo chuckled. "The more, the merrier."

En jabbed her noodle-greasy fork at Sunny. "But I _do_ have to start over because of you."

Sunny sat upright, her sleeping bag over her legs. "Aww, I'll be extra nice to you today."

"You better be." With another ostentatious grunt, En set the stove upright again and refilled the pot with the last water bottle. After setting it on the fire, she fished in the side bag of Ringo's pack and pulled out a plastic bag full of tea leaves.

"Whoa, hold it," Ringo stopped her. "That's… my relaxation medicine. We don't want to drink that on a busy day. The tea's on the other side."

With a grin and a shake of her head, En put the weed back and clawed for the tea in the other side bag. The plastic bag of tea emerged, smelling more tea-like. There was even a mesh ball to put the ground tea leaves in. Small bubbles had started to form on the bottom of the pot. As En made to throw the tea in, Ringo gently took her wrist.

"Water has to boil before you throw the tea in." When En didn't seem to understand, he explained, "For the aroma."

"Right." Ringo seemed to pride himself on his refinement. He was welcome to.

Yawning and stretching, Sunny grunted, "I heard that in the old pre-War days, they could fry eggs on the hood of those cars."

"Doesn't sound very hygienic," Ringo remarked.

She shrugged. "Probably some stupid old wives' tale anyway."

"Actually, no," En explained, holding up the noodle-fork. "It is entirely conceivable that the heat of a combustion engine would be high enough to fry an egg. These things generated a _lot_ of heat."

"Yes, miss Tessara," Sunny mimicked the tone of a school child.

"You'll be tested on this tomorrow, so study hard," En said. It made her sound like miss Bishop, bless her. She couldn't wait to go home. Even miss Bishop's drunken-passionate adoration of the statue girl was something she missed now. Not to minimalize her current company, of course. They were fine people, and she had fun with them, even if they did knock water pots over, but she'd sure feel good to be back home. Maybe Sunny or Ringo (or both) felt like coming with her after this was over? New Arroyo had known such an immigration boom that not just anyone could settle anymore. You needed a New Arroyan citizen to vouch for you if you wanted to live there, basically because it was a little paradise in the barren Wastes and, well, everyone and his brother wanted to live there. En wasn't an adult yet, so she couldn't vouch, but she was sure she could convince her parents if she needed someone to place a vote of confidence in these two.

"Earth to En?" Sunny broke her thoughts.

She blinked, "Uh? Yeah, sorry, daydreaming."

With a mischievous grin, Sunny pointed at the water pot. "Your kettle's boiling over."

Indeed, the water had become a bubbling mass. En gently dipped the mesh ball of tea into it and turned the stove down so it didn't boil over. Taking the mesh ball's chain between two fingers, she began bobbing it up and down.

"Ah-ah-ah," Ringo stopped her. "Let it draw on its own. Gotta let tea do its own work. Don't rush it."

"Uh… sure," En said. "You sure you're not taking this too seriously?"

He shrugged. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right."

"Got a point, I s'pose."

Sunny didn't make too much of a fuss about her bra change, apparently, but she did at least have the modesty to turn around when she put it on. Ringo briefly looked back at her, noticed her naked back and an ever so slight bit of side boob, and quickly looked back to the pot, embarrassed. "Um… yeah, so… tea."

A smile playing around her mouth, En merely said, "Yeah. Tea."

Sunny had completed her wardrobe change and came to sit with them, tying her hair back. "Tea, huh? Can't say I'm a fan."

"Me neither," En admitted.

"I prefer coffee myself too, but a nice cup of tea every now and then is a nice change," Ringo said. "I think it's done."

Sunny took her knife and sawed the three empty water bottles in half, then held out the lower halves to Ringo. "Pour when ready."

"You might want to set them down on the floor," Ringo cautioned. "Unless you enjoy the feeling of burned fingers."

"Heh, no thanks. Got my face to keep me busy with burn enjoyment."

"My thoughts exactly."

As Ringo poured the tea into the bottle halves, En took a look at Sunny's face. It was still red and somewhat swollen, but far less than the day before. She'd probably be just fine in a few days. Good. En wasn't really ready to have to deal with serious injury to the people she cared about. Although supposedly, the statue girl had met with tragedies happening to people she'd cared about, and eventually herself, and persevered despite those. Of course, En was just an average courier-slash-repair girl, and no one as heroic as the statue girl, but still. In the Wastes, she'd always been taught, life was very cheap. New Arroyo was a peaceful and safe place, but outside were all kinds of bad people and vicious animals. Again she was reminded of the statue girl leaving her safe and familiar village into a dangerous and predatory world. She'd achieved her goals, hadn't she? Then again, people like the statue girl were born to be special. She was just a regular girl. And the statue girl had achieved her goals, yeah, but it had cost her her life. So yeah, En respected heroism, but dying really wasn't a price she wanted to pay for it. Better average and alive than heroic and dead.

She set the tea to her lips and tried a drink. It was so hot it almost burned the tips of her fingers, but she was determined to have a sip nonetheless. The hot tea tasted bitter, but not altogether unpleasant. And it was a warm drink, useful to get the blood working again after that cold night.

"And? Does it merit your approval?" Ringo asked, apparently eager to know.

"Yeah, it's not bad actually."

"Oh I say," Sunny exclaimed in a posh British accent. "Good show, old girl!"

* * *

><p>The sun had already climbed a decent height when they emerged from the police station, and the cold of the night seemed to never have existed. It was only nine thirty, but the sun was already seriously leaden.<p>

Hooking his thumbs around the straps of his backpack, Ringo sighed contentedly. "Well, my fellow travelers, let us set sail for Primm."

Cheyenne barked enthusiastically in response.

"You sure that dog doesn't secretly understand what we say?" En asked Sunny, who merely grinned mysteriously.

"Onwards!" Ringo announced, beginning to walk. En and Sunny followed suit, catching up and walking beside him. He still had his thumbs hooked into his pack's straps, making him look like an oversized boy-scout. En had to grin to herself when she thought of what a weirdo he was.

Primm came closer, gradually growing until it was almost life-size. They'd stopped for fifteen minutes to eat the agave pears Ringo had plucked from one of the trees, but apart from that they'd walked for three hours non-stop. Most of the city had been smashed to rubble by the bombs way back when, but the centre of the town still stood more or less upright. Miraculously, the old rollercoaster track on the other side of the city had been spared as well. The city itself was divided into two parts, the one they were on separated from the other by a shattered highway digging a trench between them. One bridge went over that trench, connecting both sides so people didn't have to walk all the way around. The side En and her companions were on was mostly regular buildings. The more spectacular things like the rollercoaster track and the massive hotel that was apparently part of it stood on the other side.

"Hey, you three," a voice called out to them. "You might wanna stay on this side if you don't want to get hurt."

The voice came from a soldier in earth-coloured armour, hunkered down behind the remains of a wall, his weapon ready.

"NCR troopers," Ringo quietly said to En. "They're alright, just don't make them angry."

"Got it."

The trooper motioned for them to come closer. "Best stay in cover. You never know when those cons feel like taking a potshot across the highway."

They carefully made their way towards the trooper, taking care not to be too exposed while they did it. As they moved, En's eyes fell on a frame holding an old family photo, half-buried in the rubble. So many people.

"Right," the trooper said, his voice muffled by his face wrap as they hunkered down with him. "Can I ask what brings you here?" He immediately spoke to Ringo, considering him the leader with the typical machismo soldiers had. Ringo was the guy, so he had to be the boss, right?

Surprisingly, Ringo said, "The young lady's our guiding light, soldier," and pointed to En.

"Oh. Right." The trooper's bright blue eyes went to En. "So, what brings you here?"

It was strange to talk to a masked man, showing only his eyes, but En supposed he did it to keep the sand out of his respiratory system. "I'm looking for the Mojave Express um… responsible… guy."

"All the civilians have been detained inside the Vikki & Vance casino by the Powder Gang. I'm afraid your trip was for naught, miss."

"Detained?" Ringo asked.

"Yes sir. The captain can tell you more. Head on through this way, to the tent camp. Ask for captain Hayes, he'll fill you in."

"Hayes," Sunny echoed. "Got it."

He nodded, lifting his assault rifle. "I need to go back to my watch duty. Keep safe."

"You too," Ringo said.

They went past the trooper and took a short trek through the city until they spotted the army tents set up in a sheltered place. Several troopers raised their weapons, but when En and the others showed their open palms, they became less nervous. They all wore the same sand-coloured armour with the two-headed bear insignia and the letters NCR on the chest plate.

"What do you want, civilians?" an unfriendly female trooper barked at them when they approached.

"We're here to see captain Hayes?"

The trooper rolled her eyes and snorted. "As if the captain has time for _civilians_."

"He'll be the judge of that, trooper," Ringo said sternly. "Now where can we find him?"

"It's _corporal_", the trooper insisted. But then she said, "Command tent's over there."

"Yeah, thanks," Sunny said, as unfriendly as possible.

"Friendly girl," En remarked to Ringo as they walked to the command tent.

"You need to understand," Ringo said, "Many of these people are stressed out, shell shocked, dead tired, hungry, and feeling abandoned by their government. Now, I'm not making excuses for rude behaviour, but these people have a hard life. Can't blame them for being a bit unfriendly."

"I guess."

"Your business, ma'am?" a business-like trooper asked when they came to the command tent. He stood upright and proud, his assault rifle over his chest, and didn't even look at her when he spoke, just staring straight ahead.

"Uh, hi. We'd like to speak to captain Hayes, please?"

"Certainly, ma'am. I'll have to ask you to leave your weapons in the footlocker next to me."

En shot a questioning look at Ringo, who nodded. Reassured, she opened the footlocker and dumped her XM-21 and the Beretta in there. Ringo did the same with his Sig and the Remington Varminter 700 he'd adopted from En. Sunny, at last, dropped her Winchester into the box. The trooper held out a key. "Ma'am, I must ask you to secure the container and retain the unlocking instrument so your weapons may be reacquired upon exit."

"Lock the box and keep the key, you mean?" En said mischievously, taking the key. "Sure thing."

The trooper was unfazed. "That is correct, ma'am."

Cheyenne was told to stay outside, and she did so without a fuss.

"Keep up the good work, soldier," Ringo told him as they entered the tent.

"Will do, sir."

The man sitting behind the map table looked weary and worn. Worry lines were cut into his face, making him look older than he probably was. When he looked up, however, he smiled, rose, and said, "Can I help you?"

En waited for Ringo to speak (he seemed better at this kind of thing than she was), but he remained silent. So when the captain looked at them, puzzled, she said, "Uh… Captain Hayes?"

"At your service, ma'am," came the standard reply.

"I'm uh… En Tessara, this is Sunny and Ringo."

"Pleasure."

"Uh… we were told to come see you… we're looking for the person who's responsible for the Mojave Express here in Primm?" En didn't really have any idea how to address an army captain.

"Ah yes." He motioned for them to sit down, which they did. Only when they sat, did he lower himself onto his chair as well. "That'll be a touch difficult, I'm afraid. The other s – "

"Oh crap," En broke him off abruptly. Fireflies again. Her hand went to the side of her head.

"Excuse me?"

"She uh, she has seizures, captain," Sunny explained hastily. "Just… give her a second and she'll be okay."

"Yeah, I noticed the uh…" Hayes motioned to the side of his head.

Again the headache, the shrieking and the doubling vision. She felt herself almost falling out of her chair when her balance went, but Sunny's hand caught her and held her up. Vomit pushed against her gullet, but she struggled to keep it inside and not on the captain's maps. Sunny's hand still steadying her, she waited out the seizure.

"… Sorry about this," she breathed after it had lessened enough to be coherent.

"Uh… not at all. Is there anything I can do to help?" the captain asked, sounding concerned.

"No, no, it's fine. I just need to… bite down until it's over."

"We're looking for the Mojave Express administrator in Primm, Captain," Ringo took over while En got her wits back.

"Yes, so you said," Hayes replied, still visibly uncomfortable with the ailing En. "And like I said, it'll be difficult. Powder Gang took over the town."

"So one of your troopers mentioned, yes. Why not just run them out?"

The Captain laughed humourlessly. "Look at us. We're not outnumbered, but we are outgunned, morale is almost zero, ammunition's not much better, and most of these people are starving, injured, or both. Our medic got shot five days ago, and we're out of meds. There's not much we can do apart from watching the place and hoping HQ sends us reinforcements some time this year."

"How many Powder Gangers?" Sunny asked, still supporting En.

Hayes sighed. "At least seven. Most armed with worthless rusty guns, but they have ammo for them, and we don't. They mined the bridge too. Proximity mines. Cocksuckers." He seemed to be ashamed of the word even before he'd finished saying it.

"We can… deal with the mines," En said, biting her headache.

"No you can't," Hayes insisted gently. "Like I said, they're proximity mines. Get too close and they blow you up. Trust me, if my men – "

"Proximity mines are easy if you know what you're doing," En countered. "Trust me, I can deal with the mines. And that means I can deal with the Powder Gangers as well."

"You're welcome to try, but I'd rather not see fragments of you flying in all directions, miss," the Captain scolded. "I know at your age, you think you're immortal, but you're not."

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss En's claims, with all due respect, Captain," Sunny backed her up. "I've never seen anyone so good with tools and equipment as she is."

He sighed. "Like I said, you're welcome to try, miss Anne."

"Not Anne. En. Ee-en."

"Uh… right."

"I'll need to borrow your fridge, though," En said, pointing at the old refrigerator behind the Captain.

"That old thing? Won't get much out of it. Broke down a day after we got here. Not that we have anything left to keep cool anyway."

"Oh, it doesn't need to work."

When they emerged from the Captain's tent and reclaimed their gear, Sunny asked En, "So I suppose you won't be telling us what you've got planned until you set it in motion, right?"

En smiled mysteriously. "Don't want to spoil the surprise."

"Great."

"I need you to find something for me, Sunny."

"Mm?"

"A long rod, as long as possible, but still rigid. Think you can do that?"

"Sure, won't be that hard to find something amidst all the rubble."

En smiled. "Cool. While you search, Ringo, could you help me get that fridge out of here?"

"Very well."

Sunny almost immediately returned with an old carbon fishing rod, but En had to send her away, reminding her she'd asked for something rigid. Sunny hadn't complained and gone off again, Cheyenne in her wake, to find something else. While En unscrewed the door of the fridge, Sunny had returned with a long rebar. It was at least two metres long, so it'd do the trick.

"So what're you gonna do?" Sunny asked while Ringo merely looked silently at En, who'd started taking the door apart. "Throw a fridge at those mines? Chill them until they're edible?"

"Not at all," En grunted, pulling the fridge door's magnet free. "Something much simpler, and much more effective. Getting rid of the mines and taking down their numbers at the same time."

"I'm curious?"

"You'll have to wait 'til nightfall."

Waiting until nightfall was done by letting Ringo teach En how to play caravan, which turned out to be mostly a game of bluffs and risks. Sunny had notions of the game, but wasn't that much of a card player, but once En had learned the game, she called Ringo's bluffs flawlessly and almost always folded when he really did have good cards. When she beat him for the fourth time in a row, he flopped his cards down on the laid-down fridge they were using as a table and moaned, "You were right about this kid's luck, Sunny."

"Told ya."

"That's seventeen caps you owe me, Beatle-man. Pay up." She held out her hand.

Shaking his head and muttering, Ringo slapped the caps into En's hand.

"Ooh, sore loser," Sunny teased.

Feigning irritation, Ringo grunted, "Shut up, Schofield."

"Whatfield?"

En giggled. "Never mind."

"It's getting dark out," Ringo remarked.

Time for En's cunning plan. She took up the rebar with the fridge magnet fitted to it.

"You about ready to tell us what you're gonna do with that?" Sunny asked impatiently.

"You'll see."

Sunny harrumphed. "You and your 'you'll see's all the time!"

En led them to the bridge, the one that had been mined according to Captain Hayes. The trooper with the blue eyes, who'd been keeping watch on the North side when they'd entered, was now positioned at the bridge. Apparently the NCR squad found keeping an eye on the Powder Gangers during the night more important than warning strangers so they didn't get their heads shot off. En couldn't blame them.

"What is that thing?" the trooper remarked in a whispering voice.

En ignored the question, hunkering down beside him behind his sand bag wall. "Where's the mines you spotted?"

Not understanding, the trooper pointed at the bridge. "One on that crack in the pavement, one on that dirt mound, and another one right behind that moss patch."

Indeed, En saw the small red LEDs of the mines. Three of them. Normally you buried those, but the Powder Gangers had been too stupid and overconfident to properly conceal them. Good. And three was an ideal number. "They're holed up in the casino?"

The trooper shook his head. "Nu-uh. Bison Steve hotel, dead ahead."

Indeed, at the end of the boulevard on the other side of the bridge, lay the Bison Steve hotel, to which the rollercoaster apparently belonged. "But one of them's in the Vikki & Vance, to keep an eye on the prisoners. That's the thing," the trooper explained. "If we act against them, they might start killing hostages."

"Anyplace else they go?" En asked.

"M-hm. The crappers in the Bison Steve don't work, so they go for shits in the Mojave Express office just outside."

"Aha." That was good to know. "What building?"

The trooper pointed at the structure opposite the Vikki & Vance casino.

"No guards? Lookouts?"

He shook his head. "They're confident enough we won't try anything."

En wrung her hands. "Excellent."

"Mind telling me what you're planning?" the trooper asked.

"You'll see."

Sunny groaned in frustration.

"Come on. Leave Cheyenne here." Quietly, En sneaked over the bridge, towards the first mine. "You see, she explained in a whisper, "Proximity mines are set to go off when an object passes near them. Yes?"

Ringo slowly said, "Yeeees?"

"But they can't go off when a bird or a mouse passes, that'd be pointless. So they only explode when something of sufficient mass approaches at a sufficient speed. So all you gotta do," she explained as she slowly moved the magnetic end of the rebar towards the mine, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, "is pick them up with something small, and moving slowly."

As she said it, the magnet made contact with the mine, latching on to it with a light _tink_.

"Won't it go off when you lift it? I mean, doesn't it register the ground as a moving object then?" Ringo asked, more intrigued than worried.

"Nu-uh," En said. "They only register in an arc above them."

As she lifted the rebar, the mine came up with it.

"Holy crap," Sunny breathed.

"Am I awesome, or what?" En smirked, carefully maneuvering the magnet.

"You are a genius among unworthy plebeians, miss En," Ringo admitted. "But how will you pass those other mines now?"

"The bridge is wide enough. Just dump them all on one side, walk past them on the other, then pick them up and lay them down in a few… strategic positions."

After a minute or two, in which Sunny bit off all her nails to the knuckles, they'd passed the mines, which lay neatly arranged on one side of the bridge.

"Miss En, that was some fine work," Ringo commended her as they sat behind a wall, looking out at the Bison Steve, waiting for something En didn't feel like telling yet.

"The fine work," En announced. "Has yet to come."

"Will it involve moving around highly explosive mines with a tiny fridge door magnet again?" Sunny asked.

"Afraid so."

The moment was there. One of the Powder Gangers emerged from the Bison Steve hotel and dashed for the Mojave Express building.

"Now's the chance," En hissed when the convict had gone in. He'd been carrying a roll of toilet paper, so he'd be busy in there for a while. Hopefully. She rose, gently picked up one of the mines with her magnet rebar and briskly but carefully walked to the Vikki & Vance, putting down the mine. She darted back to the two remaining ones, set one in front of the Bison Steve, and finally, one mine was put in front of the Mojave Express door. Then she rushed back behind the wall.

"Miss En," Ringo said, sounding impressed, "you are a glorious she-devil."

"Aren't I?"

"I'm not sure if – " Sunny began, but she was cut short as the Powder Ganger opened the door of the Mojave Express building, his hand on his lower belly. The _beep_ from the proximity mine was inaudible at the distance, but En knew it was there. The blast of the mine going off, however, was more than audible, shattering the night silence and sending the Powder Ganger up into the air, shredding his legs and lower body.

"Weapons ready," Ringo rapped, knowing what would follow. En already had her XM-21 in hand, and Sunny, robotically, did as she was told. The double doors to the Vikki & Vance casino flew open and the Powder Ganger that came out to investigate got blown up the same way his fellow con had. Seconds later, two Powder Gangers emerged from the front door of the Bison Steve hotel, and met the same fate.

The other Powder Gangers seemed a bit more careful, but then only a bit. When one appeared at the window, En got him in her crosshair and blew his head apart. The second was de-brained when she briefly peeked out the doors, Ringo's bullet flawlessly finding her forehead.

A silence fell.

"There were seven," Sunny whispered. "Gotta be one more."

"Probably the leader," Ringo said. "He'll be smart enough not to stick his head out the door now."

"So we gotta go get him," En decided. "Come on."

"What about those hostages?" Sunny asked.

After a moment's thought, En decided, "Ringo and I go for the boss man, you get those hostages out."

"I'm not sure if…" Sunny began.

"I'll protect her," Ringo assured. "Go on. We'll cover you."

Sunny gave a nod, and ran, her head down, to the Vikki & Vance. En and Ringo waited a few moments, but there was no gunfire.

"Alright," Ringo said to En. "We'll leap frog to the hotel. You know what that means?"

En nodded. "You bend over, I put my hands on your back and leap over you, giggling inanely."

"I said something about a good time for jokes, miss En, remember that?"

She chuckled. "Sorry. No, I've never heard of it before, but I assume one gives cover while the other moves ahead, past the first, and then the other covers while the first moves past him, and so on?"

Ringo nodded. "That's it. I'll go first, cover me."

En darted out of her hiding place and took cover behind a large mailbox, raising her rifle and aiming it at the hotel. Ringo bolted past her and ran to an old car wreck, dead close to the hotel. He motioned for En to run all the way to the door, and then raised his rifle. En sprinted past him and took position on one side of the double doors, her boot stepping on a squishy piece of bowel. Knowing she was unable to cover him from there, Ringo quickly closed the distance and ended up on the other side of the door. He put down his rifle and whispered to En, "Pistols."

En nodded and gently placed her XM-21 on the ground, taking out the Beretta. Gah, she didn't like getting up-close. And even though she'd never really done it, she knew she wouldn't be good at it. Should have let Sunny come with Ringo. But that'd mean letting her friends get in danger while she did the easy work, and she couldn't have that.

"Stay behind me," Ringo mouthed.

En nodded.

Ringo entered the building, holding his weapon out before him. En followed, shaking on her legs, her belly a hard ball. Her weapon trembled in her hand.

"Don't move!"

In the hotel lobby stood a Powder Ganger armed with a big weapon, consisting of a long nozzle connected to a big tank on his back. The flamethrower was aimed at a man sitting in his knees, his hands behind his head. Ringo advanced on him, his weapon pointed at the Powder Ganger's forehead.

"Get the fuck out of here, or I burn the deputy here to a cinder!"

"Please, man, put the gun down," the man on his knees, apparently the deputy, begged.

"You heard the man," the Powder Ganger shouted. "Do it, or he burns!"

"And then what?" Ringo asked him, icy calm. "You burn this deputy here, who's never done anything to you, and then what happens? That leads nowhere. Lower the flamer and we'll let you leave alive."

"Ha!" the Powder Ganger barked. "You think I believe that for a _second_? You won't let me leave, you'll just shoot me. Or worse, put me back in chains!"

"Hey uh," En pointed out casually. "Your pilot flame's gone out."

The man with the flamethrower blurted out incredulous laughter. "What the Hell? You think I'm falling for that one? You stupid little kid! Seen to many movies, huh?"

"For god's sake," the deputy bleated, his eyes screwed shut. "For god's sake do as he says!"

"I'm just saying – "

"En, _sweetie_, he's really not going to fall for that old movie trick," Ringo scolded with clenched teeth. "Let me do the talking, alright? You're making it worse!"

"But – "

"En! Shut your mouth!" Ringo shouted. Then he turned back to the man with the flamer. "Now listen. This won't get you anywhere. So either you lower the weapon and we all walk away, or you persist in this lunacy, and my friend here and I will be the only ones who survive this."

The deputy contributed a long, cowardly, "Oh goooooood!"

"Shut the fuck up!" the Powder Ganger shouted to the deputy.

"Now that I do agree with," Ringo said calmly.

"Now look! I want you two to back the fuck off, and then I'm taking this yellow-bellied shit with me, until I'm out of sight."

"And then what?" Ringo asked calmly. "What happens then? You haven't thought this through have you? The NCR will – "

"I don't give a shit," the con screamed, spittle flying in his beard. "Now back the fuck off or I'm frying the deputy!"

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god!"

"Alright, alright," Ringo finally gave in. "You mean it, I can see that. If you spare the deputy's life, we're going." He made to put his weapon down.

"Well, I'm not," En said coldly.

"En, for god's sake, girl! I told you…"

"Go on," she challenged him. "Burn the poor deputy. I dare you."

In response, the man on the ground began whimpering inarticulately.

"En, have you gone mad?"

"I'm serious. Do it. Double dare you."

"You crazy kid! This isn't movie bullshit," the Powder Ganger yelled. "I'll burn him! I swear to fucking God!"

"En," Ringo ordered. "Put your weapon down. He'll do it, I can see it in his eyes. Put it _down_!"

"Not gonna happen."

"Do as he says!" the deputy shrieked. "You stupid kid do as he says do _as he says_!"

"Enough!" the Powder Ganger shouted. "He burns!"

And with a mad grimace, the crazed con pulled the lever of his flame thrower. A wet spray of petrol hit the deputy in the face. He squealed like a slaughtered pig, thinking he was set on fire, but the only thing that he lost was his dignity as he urinated in his pants.

"What th…" Ringo breathed.

En kept her weapon trained on the Powder Ganger. "His pilot flame really _was_ off."

The Powder Ganger dropped the flamethrower and reached for his revolver.

"Don't do it, asshole!" Ringo shouted.

But with a defiant cry of, "You'll never take me alive," he lifted the revolver. Stone calm, Ringo shot him in the head, blasting his brains out of his skull. The revolver flew through the air and landed at En's feet. The con leader lay dead, his left foot still twitching slightly as the brave deputy lay on the floor in a fetal position, holding his head and whimpering.

With a smirk, her hands in her side, En waited for Ringo to admit it.


	10. Dead End Journey

**TEN**

**Primm**

**June 28th**

**23:01**

Ringo sighed, looking at the smirking En. With a considerable amount of effort, he managed to utter, "Alright. You were right, I was wrong."

En said nothing, but simply made a rotating gesture with her hand, as if to say, 'carry on'.

He let out another grunting sigh. "I shouldn't have told you to shut up or yelled at you."

En still remained silent, enjoying the moment immensely.

"You're not getting an 'I'm sorry', no matter how smug you look," Ringo concluded. "Come on, let's go check on Sunny." Meanwhile, the deputy scampered out on all fours, whimpering about how crazy they were.

With a giggle and a bounce in her step, En followed Ringo to the Vikki & Vance casino. Sunny emerged from the double doors as they came out of the Bison Steve. When she saw them, she asked, "Victory?"

"Yes indeed," Ringo confirmed. En resisted the temptation to gloat some more.

"Well, all's good here too. Like that soldier said, just one Powder Ganger guarding the hostages. What a bunch of morons."

"The hostages?" En joked.

"No, those Powder Gangers," Sunny replied, the joke lost on her. "Only one man to guard hostages, and he runs out the second he hears something go boom. I've seen more professional hostage situations."

"Which you probably defused with guns blazing, dressed in a chainmail bikini?" En asked.

Sunny scratched her head. "I never told you how my parents died, did I?"

"Oh. Sorry."

Sunny smiled. "It's okay sweetie. Not like you had any way of knowing."

"Everything alright?" Ringo asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm fine," Sunny said wearily. Then her eyes, only barely perceptibly, lit up. "Could use a hug though."

En briefly thought of beating Ringo to the punch just to foil Sunny's little plot, but she supposed she could use a man's hug for more reasons than one, so she let Ringo put his arms around her. Ringo wasn't tall, but he stood almost a head taller than Sunny. Only now did she notice how short Sunny really was. Sure, she was the same height as En, but En still had a year or two of growth in her. Well, hopefully. Sunny on the other hand, wouldn't gain one more centimeter.

"Uh… 'scuse me?"

The voice came from an old man with deep wrinkles along his face.

Ringo promptly let go of Sunny and didn't know where to look, apparently extremely embarrassed. And even Sunny looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah, hi," En greeted cheerfully.

"Are you uh… the ones we gotta thank for kicking those Powder Gangers out on their asses?"

"Sure are!" En confirmed with a broad smile. "We rock, don't we?"

En's good cheer helped the man over his doubt, and he replied, "Missy, you sure as Hell rock all the way to high Heaven! Harder than the old Midnight Riders!"

"Who?"

He grinned and chuckled hoarsely. "Old people rock music. No matter. Name's Johnson. Johnson Nash, damn pleasure to meet you!" He held out his hand and En told him her name and shook it. It felt like leather covered in sandpaper.

"I'm Sunny, and this is Ringo."

Ringo tipped an imaginary hat.

"Parents were Beatle fans?" Nash asked sheepishly. Ringo only replied with a weary sigh.

"Well, you people sure did us a huge favour. And I intend to repay you this instant. Have you had dinner yet?"

Sunny's face lit up like a halogen lamp. "No, mr. Nash. No we haven't."

"Well then by all means, let me invite you to my humble abode! Follow me!"

They followed the lean old man to his house, and as luck would have it, it was the old Mojave Express building. As they reached the door, and the remains of the toilet-paper wielding Powder Ganger, Nash only let out a brief, "Ummm. Right," and stepped over the shredded body. He wasn't surprised that the door no longer required a key, even though he'd already taken it out of his pocket. The lock had been smashed out with a heavy object.

"Sit yourselves down," he told his saviours, "Grab a drink from the fridge… well, if there's any left with all those miscreants running around here recently."

"I'm sure the damage to your fridge will be nothing compared to what they've done to your toilet," En couldn't resist pointing out.

Nash only let out an inarticulate grunt at that, then said, "Well, you people sit tight, I'll go get my old lady, and we'll fix you up something nice!"

After Nash had closed the door, Sunny breathed, excited, "Proper food. Imagine that. No trail crap like soggy noodles or something."

Ringo responded with an indignant, "Hey."

"Come on, you know what I mean. Hey, but I need to go pick up Cheyenne, she'll be getting worried. Be right back." With that, she got up and went out the door.

"We really should see what we can recover from those bodies before other people loot them," Ringo thought out loud.

"That's… pragmatic," En remarked, taking a bottle of cola out of the fridge. "You?"

"Any beer in there?"

She peered into the fridge. "A few, as it happens. Budweiser or Heineken?"

Ringo let out a disgusted, "Ugh." After a sigh and a pause to think, he decided, "I suppose Bud will have to do. I'll kill myself before I drink that horse urine."

"O… kay." She'd forgotten how demanding Ringo was when it came to food and drink. Said demanding person, in the meantime, was rummaging into his backpack, took out his plastic bag of stuff En had mistaken for tea, along with a bag of tobacco, and rolled himself a smoke.

"Relaxation time, huh?" En asked.

Contentedly, Ringo lit the smoke and confirmed, "Oh yeah."

Allison was a fan of the occasional joint as well, saying it opened her mind and stuff, and En had tried one a while ago, but all it had done was make her feel a little lightheaded and a lot hungry. And the taste in her mouth had been foul for three days. Not really her idea of fun, but still, if Ringo enjoyed giving himself these little treats, who was she to judge. After all, the guy had repaid whatever debt he imagined to have a long time ago already. En permitted herself to suspect he was with them simply because they were having fun.

What was not fun at the moment was the radio. It played music, a song about spurs that jingled, jangled, jingled, but the sound fell away intermittently, and it irritated En to no end.

Noticing her frown, Ringo said facetiously, "So fix it then," clearly not expecting her to actually do that.

"Oh you better believe it," En said, getting up, turning the radio over and starting to screw it open. "Probably just a faulty contact anyway."

"Alrighty!" Johnson Nash announced when he came back in. "This is my dear wife Ruby…"

"Pleased to meet you both."

"… and she'll be making us a healthy, filling, invigorating dinner. Cabbage and potato mash with pork sausages."

Ringo couldn't react more enthusiastically than, "Uh… yay."

Nash' eyes narrowed. "Do I see you tinkerin' on my radio there, little lady?"

"Yeah um… I hope you don't mind, but the sound constantly falling away was getting on my nerves."

"Oh, little lady, it gets on my nerves too, but not havin' music at all is far worse, so make sure you don't break anything now, y'hear?"

En let out a little laugh. "You clearly haven't seen me at work yet."

"Oh, hey," Sunny said, surprised as she led Cheyenne inside. "Hope my friend here can stay too?"

"Why of course," Ruby Nash sang out in a high, clear voice. "Why, aren't you a sweetheart, boy!" She kneeled down and began rubbing Cheyenne's cheeks, and the dog didn't seem to mind the attention one bit.

"Girl, actually," Sunny corrected. "But yeah, a sweetheart she is. Well, except when she's not."

"Oh my," Johnson Nash said, seeing Ringo's smoke. "Sonny, would you um… object to letting me have a little toke of that? Works wonders for my achin' back."

Surprised, Ringo held out the joint. "Uh… sure." He didn't notice Ruby's disapproving frown.

Eyes closed, Nash dragged from the smouldering 'herbal remedy' while his wife announced, "Well, I'll just start dinner."

Feeling slightly encouraged by Nash' approval, Ringo held out the joint to the others. "Anyone?"

Sunny extended her hand and took the smoke. "Sure, just one though. En?"

"Uh… no thanks." The broken radio was more interesting than drugs. En was happy enough on her own without needing drugs to help that feeling. She'd opened the radio up, blown the dust out of its innards, and there it was, a wire dangling loose, occasionally losing contact. Humming to herself, she deftly fixed the contact, screwed the plate back to the radio's rear, and plugged it in. The spurs no longer jingled, jangled, jingled, and now the radio was belting out a song about maybe thinking of someone when someone was all alone. "There you go, mister Nash, good as new!"

"Not so much of the mister, miss Anne, just John or Jack's fine."

En opened her mouth to correct the old man, but Sunny was first. "Not Anne. En. Ee-en," imitating En's tone when she said it, that tone someone uses when she's already said something a million times.

"What an unusual name," Nash remarked. "Short for something?"

En again smiled at people's predictability. "Nope. Just En. No miss either."

"I see. Intriguing."

"Well uh, anyway, I fixed your noise box?"

Only now did the words get through to him. "Oh, right, my radio! Well I'll be… looks like I got another thing to thank you for!"

"Well, I have a good idea how you can repay me."

"I'm lis'nin'?"

Clearing her throat, she explained, "I worked for the Mojave Express, making a delivery, when I got robbed and, well," she indicated the scar on the side of her head, "this. So I need to know things about my delivery. What I was carrying, for whom, and why. Stuff like that."

"I see. Well, I'll go take a look inside my old computer and see what I can dig up."

"Not right now you're not," Ruby Nash scolded, coming from the kitchen with a steaming casserole. "Now you're all gonna sit down and have dinner."

Dinner was pleasant, with Johnson Nash spending most of it talking about old music, everything from blues to hard rock, explaining about the records he used to have and how he played them every day until his record player blew up, and mentioning on the side that if they ever came across an old record player, they'd be doing him a huge favour by letting him know where it could be found. Surprisingly, the stew wasn't all that bad. It was old-people food sure, but Ruby Nash seemed to know her spices, and the stew was so well-seasoned it was a delight to the palate. The sausages were less spectacular, but couldn't have it all.

While Ruby poured the coffee, Johnson Nash got up and said, "Imma check my computer to see what the whole deal with you delivery is. So, ee-en, right?"

"M-hm."

"Last name?"

"Tessara."

"Double S?"

"M-hm."

"Won't be long." He made to leave for the business part of the building, but stopped himself. "Oh by the way, you seem to know your way around electronics, right?"

"I'm uh… not bad at repairing stuff, yeah," En admitted, passing the sugar pot to Ruby.

"Got something you might be able to mess around with. Come on."

Her curiosity peeked, En took her coffee cup with her to Nash' old garage. There was an odd contraption lying on the counter, a spherical robot the size of a beach ball.

"This is an old eyebot," Nash explained. "Used to work, a bit, but only floated around and played music. Crackly fifties ditties. Tried to work on it some, but I seem to have broken it even further," he admitted, looking stupid.

En studied the eyebot's frame. "What'd you do to it?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Don't rightly know to be honest…"

Ah yes, another one of those amateur repairmen who just fiddled with stuff until it broke completely. "Right," En couldn't resist saying with an edge of reproach. "You went dink-dink-dink and then it went bang, right?"

"Errr… Something like that yeah. Think I burned out the battery."

"Figured." She sighed. "Well, I'll take a look, but complex electronics aren't really my field." She didn't think there was much she could do, but it would be a nice challenge, and an opportunity to look at some advanced tech. She unscrewed the back plate of the eyebot, though she had to bend an old licence plate out of the way first, it seemed this bot had been patched up with whatever means possible. The side plate was seriously dented and blackened, from what looked like a high-speed impact. Probably why the bot had been damaged in the first place. She unscrewed another licence plate, this one simply saying ED-E, and took a look at the electronics. They were damaged alright, but it seemed most of the chipsets were still intact. Good, because there'd be no way she could fix those. She did her best to put the damn thing back in order, but when she saw what Nash had done to the battery, she knew this robot wouldn't float again without a new one. The fission battery had been shorted out and was blackened and warped. Thankfully, the battery's safety had kicked in and melted the metal into a shield to keep the radiation inside. Thing was, though, when fission batteries did that, they became completely and utterly unusable. So repaired or not, the little floating bugger would need a new battery. And that was not something she could just jury-rig into existence, no matter how good she was with her tools.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "And, how's it getting on?" Along with the hand, a panting dog's head appeared in her lap.

"Alright, I s'pose. Fixed the thing, I think, but it needs a new battery."

"Can't you just… build one?" Sunny asked, fully aware how unrealistically optimistic that was.

En looked up at her with an eyebrow raised. "I'm good, but not _that_ good. Those things are miniature nuclear reactors."

Sunny shrugged. "Well, you did your best. And it's just a stupid bot anyway." She squinted at the licence plate. "My child is a Roosevelt Academy honor student," she read out loud. "Cute".

"Yeah, don't know what that's about either."

"Come on, let's go back to the others."

The coffee was entirely finished, and En's cup had gotten cold. Ringo and Nash were wrapping up their game of caravan, Ringo losing again as always, so that was the end of the evening. Well, except for one last detail.

"I checked my records, little lady," Nash informed her. "Turns out you were instructed to deliver a package from New Arroyo to this office, correct?"

"M-hm."

He was holding a print-out, and scanning it with a frown on his face. "Contents undisclosed. Final destination to be announced upon arrival in Mojave Express office, Primm."

"That… doesn't help much," Sunny pointed out.

"Nope."

"It say who gave the delivery order, at least?"

He sighed. "Nope. Everything paid up front, so no questions are asked."

En took a sip from her cold coffee and grimaced. "Damnit. Dead end, then."

"Seems so."

"And none of you have seen a man in a checkered suit somewhere?" Sunny asked, trying a different approach.

"I haven't, sorry."

En let out a long sigh. "Guess I have an excuse to go back home now. To be honest, it might be better this way."

Sunny nodded. "Maybe yeah. I'll come with you as far as California if you want?"

"Same here," Ringo agreed.

"Sure, I'd love that. You can even come to my town, if you feel like seeing New Arroyo?"

Sunny smiled. "Maybe yeah."

"Well, you can decide all that in the morning," Ruby Nash said gently. "I'm sure the Vikki & Vance casino will let you stay as long as you want to."

That was definitely their cue to leave. It was one in the morning already, and these people were old and in need of sleep, so En understood perfectly.

The Vikki & Vance casino looked awfully gaudy, with bright, oversaturated colours that were meant to give it a luxurious look, but that only succeeded in making it look cheap and tacky. The casino was patrolled by an old Protectron robot. In the middle, on a pedestal, stood a large old-timer car, riddled with holes.

"Look at that," Ringo said, taking care not to sound impressed. "Vikki and Vance's car. Never thought I'd see such a famous thing with my own eyes." He was clearly being sarcastic.

"Vikki and Vance…" Sunny remembered. "Wasn't that the couple who tried to pull a Bonnie and Clyde but only succeeded in getting accidentally shot up in a crossfire while they were driving to their first petty theft?"

Ringo nodded. "That's the gist of it, yeah." He read the plaque set in the pedestal. "Though it seems the locals are glamorizing the story somewhat. Wouldn't call it a 'legendary heist' or a 'flamboyant, ruthless, gun-toting criminal couple', myself."

"And look who's there," En pointed out, pointing her chin at the bar.

Ringo chuckled. "Hope he got a change of pants before he came for a drink."

"Um… scuse me?" Sunny asked, not understanding.

"I'll explain later," Ringo promised.

"Hey it may be a long shot," En suggested, "but maybe that guy's seen someone in a checkered suit? Can always ask, right?"

Ringo shrugged. "Sure. We'll order drinks."

"Hey there, deputy," En said in her sweetest smile, sitting down next to him. Ringo and Sunny had ordered a drink and had sat down to chat a bit. "Dry again?"

His eyes went to her, and as he recognized her, he began to splutter, "Oh, no way man. Leave me alone, you crazy kid. I almost got burned to a cinder because of you."

Nodding at his groin, En said, "Well, if you'd caught fire, you probably could've put out the flames yourself."

"Oh aren't you funny," the man snapped, his voice trembling. "I'd like to see how heroic you are with a flamethrower inches from your face."

He had a point there. Well, only a teeny tiny one, but he had a point. Still, she told him, "You think I got this scar from a ballet accident?"

He turned away from her and stared forward again, his arms crossed over the bar. "Whatever." He looked nothing like a deputy, with a unkempt blond mullet and a stupid-looking goatee, a single long stripe on his chin.

"Okay, okay," En admitted. "We got off to a bad start. I'm En Tessara." She held out her hand.

After a suspicious look to her face, her hand, and her face again, the deputy shook her hand, clearly not keen in doing so. "Beagle."

"So, I was wondering," En came straight to the point. "Have you seen a man in a checkered suit, recently?"

It was as if someone had dropped an atomic bomb on deputy Beagle's face. He went visibly red, and En could swear she saw droplets of sweat being pushed out of his pores. And yet, he replied, "Uh… no." He was perhaps the worst liar En had ever seen. Looks like it might be useful to press the issue.

"Your face says no, but the beads of sweat on your forehead say something else."

He stood up and balled his fists, "Look brat, you better leave me alone, or I'll – " but then he noticed Ringo standing up too, his hand going to his pistol and Cheyenne growling, her ears flat.

"You uh, better sit down," En told him. "And tell me what the deal is with that guy."

Beagle's mouth moved as he tried to think of an escape, an excuse, anything, but eventually he let out the air he'd held in his lungs, and admitted, "Okay, they paid me to find out a few things about the Mojave Express. Harmless stuff, man. Just when this or that courier arrived with his package. Just stupid stuff."

It couldn't have been that stupid if it had ended with a bullet in En's head.

"Who's they?"

His head sank even deeper. "The guy in the checkered suit, and one of the Khans."

"Only one?" There had been two Khans at the execution.

"Yeah. Guy with a scraggly beard and a moustache. Looked mean and dangerous."

"Where'd they go?"

"Don't know. No point threatening me."

Fuck dammit. Half of her thought about telling Beagle just how harmless all that 'stuff' had been, and making sure he knew her headshot was his responsibility, but on the other hand, the man had already been punished enough. Karma, yes? So she just got up from her bar stool and said, "Thanks."

"Yeah."

"So they were definitely here," En said to Sunny and Ringo, sitting down at their table. "While ago. No idea where they went off to though."

"So the trail is officially dead then?" Ringo asked.

She had to edmit it to herself. "Yeah. Guess it is." She snatched Ringo's whisky glass and knocked it back. It burned in her throat, made her eyes water and made her cough, but dammit, she needed that. "Why?" she asked hoarsely.

"Well," he asked uncomfortably. "I was hoping you'd come back with me up North a ways, near the old quarry outside of Sloan."

"Uh… I guess we can make the detour, if you'll tell us why we're going?"

Sunny nodded in agreement.

He looked at the table and slowly turned his whisky glass with his fingertips. "It's… well, when my caravan was hit, I had to run for it. And…" He looked up at them. "… as much as I hate to admit it, I had to leave everything behind. And, well… everyone too."

Sunny's mouth fell open. "So, your friends are still out there?"

"Their bodies, yeah."

"Ringo," she said, amazed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Yeah," En agreed. "I wouldn't have minded going out of the way to… well, take care of your friends."

He shook his head. "My friends were dead, and I can't help them anymore. You, I could help."

En slapped the table top. "Well, that settles it. We're going to find your caravan and give a resting place to your friends."

He smiled faintly. "Thanks, you two."

"Now let's go see what rooms they've arranged for us," Sunny said, standing up.

It turned out the proprietors of the Vikki & Vance casino had two free rooms they gladly gave up. After Sunny had dropped the hint that she wouldn't mind sharing hers with Ringo, En had elbowed her in the side. It really wasn't the time, his mind was clearly on the people in his caravan. So Sunny and En would share a room, Ringo would have the other all to himself. He was a bit absent so he didn't look like he minded.

It was past two in the morning when En and Sunny had finally crawled under the blankets, Cheyenne content with a place on the floor mat. The room was nice. A bit weathered and unpolished, but so was everything else outside of New Arroyo. There was a large poster of a beautiful woman in a red dress with a flower pinned on it, saying simply, "VERA". En lay staring at the ceiling.

"Something wrong, sweetie?" Sunny asked.

"No, no, I'm alright, just thinking… part of me wants to go back home and forget about everything, but… I don't know. I keep having the feeling that all this is something I really have to pursue. Can't really explain."

"Well, you shouldn't really ignore such a feeling," Sunny said. "But if the trail's cold, it's cold. Unless we get a lucky break on the way to Sloan, there's no point fretting. Just gotta let it go."

"Yeah, I s'pose." She sighed. "Well, at least I'll get to see my best friend and my parents again."

Sunny propped herself up on her elbow. "Hey. I thought I was your best friend."

En laughed. "You can't possibly hope to be my B.F.F. after a few days."

"Bee-eff-what?"

She laughed again. "Nothing. And you are a good friend, Sunny. You can be my Mojave-best friend, how 'bout that?"

"Pft," Sunny said, flopping down on the bed. "You're just saying that to make me feel good." She was clearly joking.

"Aww, poor you," En soothed.

Sunny grinned and turned off the light. "Sleep tight, not-Anne."

"You too, Schofield."

She could practically hear Sunny frown in the darkness. "What's this whole Schofield thing anyway?"

En merely giggled in response.

"Hmph. You and your secrets."

"Good night, Sunny," En sang out, turning to her side. Not even a minute later, she felt Sunny's arm coming from behind her, wrapping itself around her side.

"You mind?" Sunny whispered.

"Uh…" En didn't really know if she minded. Depended on the reason this intimacy was instigated, really. Because someone putting her arm around someone else in bed might have _very_ diverse reasons indeed.

"It's just for the warmth and the company, promised," Sunny assured. "I'm just… I feel a little alone sometimes."

It wasn't the first time Sunny had shown to be a bit needy at times. And En supposed if just closeness was all she wanted, then she didn't really mind. And honestly, being this close to someone in bed felt anything but unpleasant, even if it was someone she'd never feel romantically attracted to. "It's fine, but we're just friends, right?"

Sunny snorted. "I'm not a dyke, En. Or a pedo, for that matter. It's just a buddy-hug."

"Then it's cool."

Sunny's warmth and softness felt reassuring and pleasant, and En fell asleep almost instantly.


	11. Little Rascal

**ELEVEN**

**Primm, the Vikki & Vance casino**

**June 29th**

**10:26**

Sunlight was already shining in through the gaps between the curtains as En awoke to the sound of running water. Cheyenne lay in front of the bathroom door, guarding it against intruders, though En wondered what kind of intruders Sunny would have to fear right now, apart from a _highly_ determined pervert.

"Hi Cheyenne," she croaked, sitting up straight. She felt like she could sleep for days. Cheyenne only responded by perking her ears. En swung her legs out of bed and held a hand against her temple in a pointless gesture to ward off the headache. The only time she didn't feel her head pound was when she slept. Her bladder ached, but it could wait until Sunny came out of the shower. Sure, Cheyenne probably wouldn't stop En from going to the bathroom, but as much as she liked Sunny, she wasn't interested in seeing her in her full glory. The guys would probably all call her crazy, but to her, a woman's naked body was just… meh. Comes with being a girl, she supposed.

The water stopped and she heard Sunny sniff and grunt as she got the water out of her face. She could go for a shower too. Ringo would probably be up already, asking them what took them so long, but another half hour wouldn't matter.

The door opened and Sunny emerged from the shower, her hair down and wet, drying herself with a towel, unashamed in her underwear, something En didn't immediately see herself doing anytime soon. Then again, she envied Sunny, not just because she didn't feel bad about her own body, but also because she most certainly didn't have a body to feel bad about. En was slightly jealous at her curvy hips and her full breasts. Guys always kept hitting on Allison because of her long blonde hair and her feminine curves, leaving En mostly ignored. And to make it worse, they often said things to make En feel better, like how they thought she was pretty too, but they just liked some more curves on a girl. Yeah, that's exactly what a teenager wants to hear, assholes. The worst one she'd ever heard had been, "You're cute En, but… well, you don't want to fuck cute, you know?"

Funniest thing was that Allison usually wasn't in the least interested, always caught up in her drawings and her stories and her fantasy worlds. En guessed that was just the way life worked: you either want it and can't have it, or you can have it and don't want it.

"Bathroom's yours if you want it?" Sunny said, towelling her hair. "… Sleepy head."

En pushed herself up off the bed. "Yeah I think I'll have a shower too."

"Cheyenne will guard your honour with her life. As will I."

En grabbed her clothes and her backpack, trudging to the shower. She still felt groggy from the sleeping-in and a shower would take care of that, no problem. After taking care of that rotten peeing business, of course. Yay.

The water stung in her partially healed head wound, but it still felt great. The tear in her scalp was healing nicely, mostly due to the stims Mitchell had given her. Before stims had been invented, she'd been told, wounds would take weeks or even months to heal. The human body sure was a slowpoke without help.

So it looked like she was going back home. Well, after seeing to the remains of Ringo's caravan, that was. It had been stupid of her and Sunny not to ask right away if he didn't want to go back to the place where his caravan had been hit. After all, he'd had to hightail it out of there, and chances were, there wouldn't be any passing strangers that stopped and buried the bodies out of the goodness of their hearts.

And after that, home. She hated to admit it, but she was in fact rather relieved that she wouldn't have to go slogging after that checkered suit guy, all the way to wherever he'd slithered off to. She wanted to, to be sure, but she also wanted to go home, and well, if the trail's gone cold, no point busting your head fretting about it. Heh, 'busting your head'.

She was a bit glad the decision had been made for her, to be entirely honest. Because having to choose between getting answers and going home, that was a tough decision, especially since one choice involved danger, and the other meant never knowing why things had happened, or what role she'd played in what must be important events, even if her role had been nothing more than sitting on her knees, being brave and eating a bullet.

She could only imagine how mortified her parents would be when they saw her come home with a short-cut little head and an awful, hairless gash in her scalp. She could just picture her mom's eyes going wide and her going, in that high-pitched voice she always used when worried, "Oh my God, En, what happened to you!", and then her father, frowning and shaking his head, muttering, "I told you you were far too young for this courier business."

Reluctantly, En turned off the water and got out of the shower. She couldn't see, with the mirror completely covered in condensation, so she simply arranged her hair by touch. It's not like she could screw up too much at its current length anyway. She winced when her hand brushed past the raw skin on the side of her head.

With a sigh, she hoisted herself into her pants and zipped up her leather jacket. Her boots were still under the bed, so she brushed her teeth first, and when she squeezed out the toothpaste onto her newly acquired toothbrush (the Vikki & Vance people still had a few boxes of unused ones lying around), she was again warned by squiggly fireflies zipping across her vision.

She let out an annoyed, "Ah, fuck", and sat down on the lid of the toilet, hooking her fingers around the sink for stability. The seizure wasn't as bad this time, but it still hurt like a bitch, her pounding head making her pant and gasp for air, and the shrieking in her ears lasting for several seconds (which always felt like minutes), before slowly diminishing again. At least there was no throwing up or crashing to the ground this time. Gotta see the positive thing, right?

Ringo already sat in the Vikki & Vance casino foyer, playing caravan with some scruffy guy or other, and again losing, as was his wont. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd called himself the second-worst caravan player in the Wastes.

"Ah, ladies!" he greeted when he saw En and Sunny come down, his eyes lighting up. "I trust your rest was queenly?"

With a smile that En couldn't really tell the meaning of, Sunny said, "Yeah, it was cosy."

Focusing again on his cards, Ringo replied, "Good, good." He stacked his caravan with a 3, just about the worst move he could have made at that point. "You ready to go?"

"Just gonna grab some breakfast," En answered, "and we're ready."

The man Ringo was playing against was a smelly, ugly bum who looked like he'd never seen a toothbrush or a bucket of water in his whole life. He grunted, annoyed at the conversation.

"Alright," Ringo said, unperturbed. "Just finishing up this game here and I'm good to go."

En opened her mouth to speak, but the man Ringo was playing against cut her off. "Mouth shut behind the game, stupid kid!"

"Sure," En obliged. "I understand it's hard for you to be confronted with a person who still has more than one tooth in his mouth." People like those deserved all the searing sarcasm she could give them. And maybe it wasn't always the cleverest thing to do, but she just couldn't stop herself from prodding them until they went into a towering rage.

Slowly, Ringo's caravan partner turned around. Ringo himself only looked on, intrigued.

"Sorry, want me to repeat that?" En asked, taking care to sound extra innocent. "Hard to hear with all the hair in your ears maybe?"

"Brat," the bum rumbled. "I'm gonna clean your clock if you don't shut the Hell up."

"Your time," En pointed out, not intent on shutting up, the Hell or otherwise, "would be better spent cleaning your armpits instead of my proverbial clock."

"That's it," the repulsive, rude bastard announced, rising from his chair. "I'm gonna rip you a new hole to shit from, kid."

"You're gonna sit the fuck down and play cards," Sunny threatened, the tone in her voice immediately making Cheyenne growl and strain at her leash. "Instead of playing tough guy when a kid pokes you."

Silently, the smelly oaf went back to his seat after giving En another long, menacing stare with his bloodshot eyes. That, and his purple nose made it clear that this was a drunken, worthless waste of space. En almost wanted him to take a swing at her, but she had to admit to herself she wouldn't be able to take one and end up as anything more than a crumpled, babbling half-conscious laughing stock. So yeah, best if Sunny had intervened. She really had to teach herself to shut up in cases like these, but it was so damn hard!

"Come on, En," Sunny said, her voice not without a scolding tone. "Let's grab a bite to eat and go. Let Ringo finish his caravan game."

"No need," Ringo said, chucking his five dollar bill at the vagrant. "I don't play with people who overreact when someone talks during a game and see it fit to call sixteen-year-old girls rude names."

"Shouldn't talk behind the game," the unwashed bum defended himself, speaking more to his cards than to anyone in particular.

Ringo gave him another glare, then told the others, "We eat on the road. There's an unpleasant smell hanging here."

"Enough you two," Sunny snapped. "Let it go, sheesh!"

En permitted herself to send a short, mischievous grin to Ringo, who responded in kind.

"I saw that," Sunny scolded. "You guys and your immaturity all the time." She clearly wasn't as mad as she sounded.

"I have an excuse," En said haughtily. "I'm only sixteen."

Sunny merely rolled her eyes at that. Ringo wisely refrained from coming up with an excuse himself, pushing the double doors open and letting his companions go through, into the burning sun. An NCR trooper stood next to the doors, wiping sweat from his brow with a kerchief. When he saw them, he remarked, "Patrolling the Mojave almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter."

"Yeah," En responded, bored. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Ringo came up with rice crackers he'd cajoled out of the owner of the Vikki & Vance casino, holding them aloft like a trophy. "Our last food, ladies and gentlemen. I was _this _close to winning some money we could use to buy provisions with, but miss En kindly ruined my game for me."

"Tch," En blew. "You were losing harder than the old Khans."

Ringo grinned. "That I must admit."

"We can always swing by Mojave Outpost, a ways South of here," Sunny suggested. "We still have that gun we looted from that bastard Cobb," she shuddered involuntarily when she pointed at it, "and the NCR pays well for weapons."

Ringo nodded. "God knows they need them. Very well, Mojave Outpost it is. It's not far from here anyway."

"Yes, but what about your caravan friends?" En asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing can bother them anymore. Half a day won't hurt anyone."

"Sure?" Sunny asked.

"M-hm. Let us be off, fair damsels!" And with a look at Cheyenne, he added, "and bitches."

The two 'ridiculous statues' Ringo had called them were already visible when they left Primm. It was an hour or two to walk at most. Looking jolly, as he always did when a long walk lay ahead, Ringo hooked his thumbs into his backpack straps and paraded off, Cheyenne trotting along with him, barking happily.

"What do you say, sweetie?" Sunny asked En. "Do we follow that buffoon or keep our distance?"

"Hard to say," En mused, stroking her chin. "If we stay too close, people might think we know the guy."

"I heard that," Ringo sang out merrily. "You perfidious wenches."

"Dang, we need to be more subtle," En said quietly, but still loud enough so Ringo could hear.

"Hey everybody!" Ringo suddenly shouted at the sky, the hills and the road, still trotting on, while Cheyenne jumped in circles around him, barking with joy. "These are my friends, Sunny and En! They are two meanies, but when nobody's looking, they're cute as cuddly teddy bears! I wub them _so_ much! Especially when they tell me stories about unicorns before they tuck me in at night!"

A passing patrol of NCR troopers looked at him awkwardly, one tapping his temple with his finger.

Laughing, Sunny shook her head. "Alright, you big embarrassment, we'll stay close to you."

The trip took them along a ridge tucked against the hills. The view wasn't very spectacular though. Below lay an ugly landscape consisting of small pools of brackish brown water, half-submerged cars and here and there, a small shack that still had a wall or two standing up. The narrow ridge they'd travelled by turned into a broad road at the foot of the hill leading to Mojave Outpost. The road itself was completely congested with rusted, useless car wrecks. Apparently there'd been a traffic jam here when the bombs had fallen. Here and there, human remains, reduced to blackened skeletons, still sat in the car seats. Nobody had bothered to clean them up.

Up on the hill lay Mojave Outpost. The statues were even bigger up close than they had seemed at a distance, at least ten metres high, and built of old scrap iron, so it seemed. The monument depicted two people shaking hands, one figure wearing a long trench coat and some kind of strange helmet, and the other wearing what looked like cowboy clothes, compete with stetson hat and all.

"That's... not at all tacky," En remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "The idiocy of it makes my nose tickle."

Ringo explained, "Supposed to be a monument celebrating the unification of two Ranger groups. Desert Rangers got absorbed into the NCR Rangers. Mostly a political move to give the NCR the opportunity to expand eastward."

"You gotta wonder," Sunny thought out loud, "how they can devote so much time to compressing and recycling scrap metal to use for those silly statues while the road leading to their base is still cluttered with car wrecks."

En wondered the same thing. Seemed bombastic statues were more important than making sure the road was actually usable. But why the NCR boys hadn't used the car wrecks as material for their statues was beyond her. Ah well, probably a plan figured out by some fathead who was paid more a day than the money for all of En's courier and repair jobs put together.

They climbed the road, finding their way between car wrecks as they went. There were over a hundred cars, all clumped together on the road, and of each and every one, the trunk had been forced open and any valuables inside taken. Must have been easy pickings for the scavengers who'd found this piece of road first. En did chuckle at the bumper sticker on one of the cars, that said, 'honk if you have poor impulse control!'.

Ringo led the way, his thumbs still hooked into his backpack straps, still marching along like a boy scout in an especially happy mood. They passed under the eyesore of a monument and reached the top of the hill. The Outpost was far less pompous than the monument, thankfully, consisting of mostly barracks ringed with waist-high sandbag walls and razorwire. Not exactly homely, but then, it was an army base, not a tea salon.

"HQ is right over there," Ringo pointed out. "I've got an old friend I should visit for a second, won't take long. Bar's next to HQ if you want to relax and have a drink."

En nodded. "Don't mind if I do."

"Well look who dragged his tender tootsies in here!" a butch female voice came from above and behind them.

"That would be my old friend," Ringo explained. Turning around, he waved at the NCR trooper on the roof, armed with an impressive-looking sniper rifle. "Heya Ghost!"

Ghost (what a ridiculous nickname) seemed to be Grand Commander in the Order of the Manly Lesbian. She had short-cut platinum blonde hair, a suspiciously masculine build, and oversized aviator sunglasses on her nose that obviously were supposed to make her look tough.

"Y'alright, Ringo?" she shouted back.

"Sure thing. Hold on, I'm coming up there. Might be easier to chat." He turned back to En and Sunny as he walked to the ramp leading to the barrack's roof. "I'll just be a minute, see you later."

"Well, looks like she won't be much competition," En remarked to Sunny.

Sunny seemed intent on being coy. "I have no idea what you mean."

En gave Sunny a hard nudge with her elbow. "Sure you don't."

"Yeah, well, Imma score some food at that HQ place, alright?" Sunny ended the conversation with a grin.

"Mind if I go have a drink?"

She shrugged. "Sure, I'll see you in a few minutes."

The bar itself was a pretty sad affair, a square gray barrack with a boring stone bar set in the middle that was as gray as the rest of the place. A weary-looking woman stood washing glasses, while the only patron, a young woman with a completely idiotic-looking straw hat sat at the bar, knocking back shots of whisky.

Ah well, boring or not, at least they had cold drinks. She sat down on a bar stool and motioned for the bar tending woman.

"Yeah?"

"Have a coke, please?" She laid ten bottle caps on the bar.

Silently, the woman turned around, set a bottle on the table and uncapped it, pocketing the bottle cap straight away before taking the ten En had laid out.

En said a "Thanks," but the woman had already turned her back. With a sigh at the woman's disinterest in her job, En set the ice cold bottle to her lips and took a swill. But what gulped in her mouth didn't taste of coke at all... It was more of a root beer taste. What the Hell?

En looked at the bottle and grunted. "Hey, miss?" she asked the bartender.

"What?"

"If I look in your toilet bowl, will there be brake fluid in there instead of water?" When the bartender blinked, she explained, "Because I think you've got a bit of a problem keeping different liquids apart."

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. The young woman in the straw hat looked on, seemingly getting irritated too, for all the business of hers it was.

"See, I asked for a coke, and what I got was um," she read the label again, "... Sarsa... pa... rilla, or whatever the Hell this is."

The woman leaned forward across the bar. "You pronounce it 'sasparilla', brat, and sarsaparilla is the Mojave's coke."

"Um... no," En argued. "Sarsaparilla is the Mojave's sarsaparilla. Coke is coke."

The bartender shrugged and made to turn away again. "No refunds, kid."

En looked at the bottle questioningly again. "This tastes like ass. No wonder you're such a sour prune if you have to drink this crap all day."

"Hey kid," the young woman with the straw hat butted in. "Why don't you shut your snooty face and drink your sass like a good girl?"

"I'm sorry?" En asked. "I don't recall this concerning you?"

Straw hat knocked back another shot and refilled from the bottle set beside her glass. It was more than half empty, and En could only assume she'd started when it was full. "You're whining, you spoiled brat. And it's gettin' on my nerves."

"Yeah, yeah," En said, taking care to sound as dismissive as possible. "Keep knocking back those whiskies. I'm sure your liver should be annoying you far more than I possibly could."

The woman clapped her shot glass down on the table and refilled it. "You don't know who you're talking to, do you?"

"Let me guess," En shot at her. "Someone who coulda been a contender? Because all I see is a sad drunk playing tough girl without realizing she looks like a total clown with her silly straw hat." She knew she had to back off, but she just couldn't help herself. People like these deserved all the verbal acid she could give them.

The drunk woman made herself a little more drunk and again refilled her shot. "Kid, your big mouth is writing checks your ass can't cash."

"Oh my!" En exclaimed. "Aren't we proud of our ability to repeat hackneyed movie lines. I don't know which is more ridiculous: your hat, or the fact that you think you impress anyone by quoting pre-War movie tough guy-oneliners."

Straw hat drained her last whiskey shot and got up from her bar stool, swaying on her legs, absolutely piss drunk. "Kid, you're gonna regret the day you picked a fight with Rose of Sharon Cassidy."

An inner voice told her to stop aggravating the damn drunk, for fuck's sake!, but En heard her mouth say, "Congratulations, your name is even more ridiculous than your hat."

The next thing she knew, the woman had grabbed her by the collar, and in a flash, En saw the other's head from extremely close, and then she heard a _thwock_ as the woman's forehead, straw hat and all, butted into her cheek. Before she even realized what had happened, a fist smacked into the side of her face, knocking out her vision. As she staggered back, she heard the straw-hatted woman shout, "You like this, brat?" There was no pain, oddly, just ringing in her ears, and the dumb and blind urge to keep herself from falling over.

The hands took her by the collar again, and the woman snarled, "Let's see how smart your mouth is when I kick you out of here without your shirt, you snooty tart!" The hands tore at her jacket, but the leather was far too strong to get torn by bare hands.

"Let my friend go _right now_!" a familiar voice ordered, accompanied by furious barking.

The hands let go of En and without her legs able to support her, she fell over, on her ass, in a corner of the bar. Her head whirled and her face felt numb. Slowly, a pounding pain began to pulse in her face and inside her brain pan. She was so dizzy she wanted to vomit.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Sunny snarled, "Attacking a sixteen-year-old kid, aren't you ashamed?" A pause. "You fucking drunk. God damn."

"Put the gun down," straw hat slurred, the alcohol finally audible in her speech, as if it had waited to manifest in her tongue until the fight was over. "Your punk-ass friend was asking for it."

En's vision slowly unblurred again, though it still spun. She tried to get up, but she only succeeded in swaying back and forth on her ass. It felt as if she had no control over her body, like being drunk (she still remembered that one time a year ago), except with a somewhat clear mind.

"You alright, En?"

En could only reply with an inarticulate whine.

"I think she's learned her lesson," straw hat muttered smugly. "She's definitely learned not to piss people off when they're drunk and so depressed they want to kill themselves."

"My heart bleeds for you," Sunny said flatly. "Now sit down on your god damn bar stool and go back to drinking yourself to death."

"Hey Cass," the bartender finally joined in. "It's time you went home, yeah?"

Still dizzy, En saw the straw- hatted woman turn to the bartender, still swaying on her legs. "Lacey, don't be such a damn bore."

"Come on, Cass," the bartender insisted. "Come back tomorrow, okay? You know I hate it when people fight in my bar."

The drunk pointed at En, still on her ass. "She started it."

"Cass," the bartender threatened. "Leave, or I'm calling in the MPs."

"Might want to listen to her, woman," Sunny added. "Or the MPs won't be in time to save your drunk ass."

The woman called Cass let out an inarticulate, dismissive groan and made a throw-away gesture at the bartender. "Candy-asses." Then she swiped her bottle off the bar. "I'm takin' this though."

"I'll put it on your tab," the bartender stated matter-of-factly.

Another inarticulate mewl, and the woman staggered out, bottle in hand.

"You okay, En?"

En managed to get to her hands and knees, probably looking like a complete moron, but that didn't matter too much now that her ass had been thoroughly kicked. Because now the pain began to pulse with full vigour. The head butt had got her in the cheek, right on the hard, jutting bone, and the right hook had whacked her in the molars, making her jaw feel as if it had been taken out, thrown under a steamroller, and shoved back in. At least she still had all her teeth and nothing broken. "I'm... okay, I guess. Felt better."

"Head?"

"No seizure yet, surprisingly."

"Whoa," the bartender stopped them. "Seizure?"

"Nevermind," Sunny said tersely. Then she extended her hand to En. "Come on, on your feet."

Lurching, En stood, not entirely stable but on two feet at least. "Thanks, Sunny."

"Hey, I may have saved your ass," Sunny suddenly snapped, "but drunk or not, I kinda believe that chick when she said you had it coming. This isn't New Arroyo, En," she fulminated on, "where there's a cop on every corner of the street and you can go around mouthing off to just about anyone you want to!"

"Yeah, I kn - "

"No, you _don't_ know," Sunny shouted. "You could have gotten killed over this! People here, they don't think twice about stabbing someone in the gut for having a big mouth. You're lucky this woman settled for a few whacks to the face."

"I said I got it, Sunny," En snapped back, irritated, holding her face. She'd already had her lesson, there was no god damn need to get it twice. "Can we just forget about this now, _please_?"

"Yeah," Sunny breathed, settling down. "Yeah, I guess it was an educational experience for you."

"It was, now can we leave this behind us?"

"Mm."

"You'll have to," the bartender told them. "Because I don't tolerate inflammatory behaviour any more than I do bar brawls. To be honest, you got what you asked for." And then to Sunny, "Same goes for people pulling guns. So both of you, out."

"I would like to sincerely apologize," En said, still swaying on her legs, "for my... 'inflammatory behaviour', as you so plastically put it. But at least I livened up things a little around here."

"Come on," Sunny grunted, grabbing her by the collar and leading her out. "Don't push it."

The sunlight hurt En's eyes when they came back out, Sunny still holding her by the collar as if she was a naughty child. Which, she had to admit, she kinda was. Still, she roughly shook herself free when they'd left the bar. "Alright, Sunny, that's enough."

"Ah-ah," Sunny scolded, her good mood apparently returned. "You've been a bad girl, young lady."

"I'll have the bruises to show for it, _mom,"_ En joked back, thinking it'd be better to just laugh with it and put it behind them.

"Mm. Hope you learned from this though."

She nodded. "I have, now let's move on, 'kay?"

Sunny turned to En and looked at her intently. "We will, right after you assure me you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Sunny. Got smacked around a bit, but not even a little seizure, so that's good."

"Mm. Now where's that lazy-ass Ringo?"

On the roof, sitting on a folding chair and chattering away to that sniper with the silly nickname, sat Ringo. He seemed perfectly comfortable, drinking soda through a straw and laughing at something funny that had just been said.

"Yo, Ringo?" Sunny called out to him.

"Be right there." Usually when people say that, they meant they'd be right there in an hour or so, after the fat had been chewed 'til there wasn't any left. But Ringo, surprisingly, got up and said goodbye to the NCR soldier. Then he trotted down off the ramp and asked, "So, what'd you get for the rifle?"

Sunny patted her backpack. "A few cans of bean casserole, a litre bottle of water, half a litre of sarsaparilla, and about a hundred caps. Not bad, right?"

Ringo nodded in acknowledgment. "Your shrewd tradesmanship is commendable."

"And," Sunny couldn't resist pointing out, "Miss En here took a few fists to the face after riling up the locals."

She didn't get the reaction she'd hoped for, as Ringo looked at En, worried. "Are you well, En? Did you get a seizure?" An NCR trooper shouldered between them, muttering only a token apology.

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Good." And with a disapproving frown at Sunny, he said, "I'm glad _you_ think it's funny."

"Come on, lighten up," Sunny tried to turn things around. "She's alright, so it's okay to make light of it, yeah?"

Ringo harrumphed. "I suppose, though I don't see what's funny about our friend getting a beating in some dive and us not being there to protect her."

"She's right though," En settled things. "I had it coming, and there's no harm done. Might as well laugh about it."

"Hmm."

"Shall we get going then?" Sunny suggested, apparently eager to put the uncomfortable situation behind her. Cheyenne barked in agreement.

"Yeah, let's hit the road," En agreed enthusiastically, the pain in her face forgotten. They'd be nicely swollen and discoloured bruises tomorrow, but all in all, it had just been a few punches. No bones broken, no organs perforated, no harm done.

And so they set off. Next stop was some quarry up North, and then home. En couldn't wait to get back.


	12. The Serpent Trench

**TWELVE**

**I-15, near a stone quarry**

**June 30th**

**11:25**

They'd made good time, going back North past Primm, up the I-15, sleeping in a damp yet oddly comfortable cave, then moving on, skirting Goodsprings (they'd agreed on passing by to say hello after the Ringo's-caravan business was dealt with) and moving up the Interstate until they saw a stone quarry in the distance. They'd gone up the mountain, passing by a small village at the foot of the hills cradling the quarry, and now all they had to do was get across the quarry to where the remains of Ringo's caravan lay.

"Let's take it carefully from here on out," Ringo cautioned quietly, kneeling behind a mound of stones to survey the situation. They were on the crest of a hill, and the canyon lay in the valley below, a stone pit with a large wooden quarrying tower jutting from the center. "We need to crest the quarry, going into the pit itself is suicide."

"Because of the Sarlacc?" En asked.

"Worse," Ringo whispered. "Deathclaws. Take my word for it, those things will rip all three of us to shreds before we can say 'Jackson's chameleon'. We do _not_ want to tangle with those."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Sunny said with a nod, squinting at the quarry pit. "I saw a deathclaw once. Tore some Legionaries armed with shotguns to shreds and could still dance the hornpipe like the best of them."

"Of course, one must admit that Legionaries are worthless good-for-nothings," Ringo pointed out. "But still, an angry deathclaw equals certain death for us. Well, except maybe dear Cheyenne here, who just _might_ be able to outrun them."

Hugging the dog, Sunny said fiercely, "Cheyenne won't run away, she'll protect us to the death."

An uncertain whine was all they got from the dog.

"So deathclaws huh?" En asked. "The New Arroyo survival manual said nothing about those, though it did have many interesting sections about how to avoid flea bites, and what leaves are the least painful to wipe your ass with."

"Seriously?" Sunny asked, her face scrunched up.

"I shit you not."

"The deathclaws are in the pit itself," Ringo explained, ignoring En. "So all we need to do is keep to the edges, and be quiet."

"Should be a walk in the park," Sunny commented.

Ringo turned to En, looking amused. "Being quiet also means not talking, think you'll be able to handle that, miss En?"

"Believe it or not," En said with a grin, "I can shut up if I have to."

"Mm." Ringo cast his eyes back at the quarry pit. It seemed pretty deep, at least twenty metres, and while the edges were slopes, they were covered with sharp stone, so sliding down those would mean having your skin flayed off and ending up in the pit as a red, shredded carcass. En figured if you were gonna fall, better to plummet down a mineshaft and break your head on the bottom than slide down those quarry walls and die by getting pieces of you torn off by those sharp stones until the stripe you left on the slope was red enough that you died from blood loss. Still, the ledges didn't seem too narrow or unstable, so all they had to do was not fall over without reason. Going around the quarry wasn't really an option, since the pit lay firmly tucked in between hillsides which were too broad to go around, and too dangerous to scale.

"Those ledges look solid enough," Ringo said, repeating En's thoughts, "but still, be careful, because they can slide out from under your feet real fast, and if you go down those slopes…"

"…you'll provide this quarry with a flashy red sports stripe." En completed.

"Exactly."

"Deathclaws don't see too well, but their hearing and smell are very acute, so be quiet. And make no mistake, they can scale these walls, and faster than you think."

"After you, white knight," Sunny encouraged him.

With a businesslike nod, Ringo stalked off, sneaking over the narrow ledge on the edge of the quarry pit. The entire distance was about a hundred metres, and then there was a break in the hillside where they could pass through. Why Ringo had taken his caravan over this route, En had no idea.

"You next," Sunny whispered. She probably wanted to keep En in between them so the least experienced one could go in the middle. Fine by her.

Carefully, she set her boot down on the compacted stones that formed the ledge. Ringo had made a good distance already, creeping forward slowly but surely. The footing underneath was much more treacherous than it looked, and several times, En felt the surface give way under her boot, and she had to reposition her foot to keep the ledge from crumbling away underneath her feet. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the midday sun felt leaden on her back and head, but she ignored it as best she could. The slope on her right side looked hungry, as if it wanted to rake its stone teeth over her body and tear off as many chunks of her as it could. As she looked down, even though she knew she shouldn't, she saw three deathclaws sitting on the bottom of the pit, in the shade provided by the wooden tower. Two of them were considerably smaller than the third, probably young. En had never seen real-life deathclaws before, and even from the distance, they looked scarily big and strong, with short legs, but powerful arms ending in wicked claws. Ringo had noticed them too, and turned back to her, a finger on his lips. Yeah, Ringo, be quiet, she knew.

She permitted herself a quick look behind her and saw Sunny slowly and carefully edge forward as well, Cheyenne negotiating the narrow ledge without any difficulty, occasionally looking up at Sunny to make sure everyone knew how she couldn't understand why it was so difficult for people who weren't dogs. En pointed down into the quarry pit to make sure Sunny had noticed the deathclaws as well. Sunny squinted down, then looked back at En and nudged her chin at her, as if to say, "What?"

Of course, the Schofield Kid couldn't see the three shapes, so En held up three fingers. Sunny squinted at those as well, clearly unable to see how many En was holding up. En muttered a "Jesus Christ," to herself and jabbed her fist at Sunny three times, each time holding up one more finger. "One! Two! Three!" she mouthed at Sunny, though that was pointless as well. But the fist pumps had done it, En could see Sunny's face immediately becoming worried, then composed again. She showed En a thumbs-up and resumed creeping, as did En.

Ringo was almost across, his foot briefly shooting out as the ledge crumbled into small stones underneath it, but thankfully he kept his balance, and the noise was kept to a minimum as well. After turning his head to En and grinning sheepishly, he stalked on. And as En smiled at the stupid embarrassed face he'd made, the fireflies came again. Oh fuck, not now! Not now, god dammit!

The shrieking in her ears came before the headache this time, and En had to go to one knee to keep herself from falling over, right into the quarry pit. Her left hand scraped across the rock wall, seeking a handhold but not finding one, and the pain in her head became so sharp she could no longer see. Her stomach contracted and her head was struck with a sudden, hard bout of dizziness.

_Oh crap I'm gonna fall in because I can't keep my balance and I'll end up like a shredded piece of meat on the bottom and the deathclaws are gonna eat what's left shit god dammit my head!_

She struggled frantically to keep her balance, but she felt herself swaying and wobbling in her kneeled position. Her head still pulsed so hard sweat broke out on her skin and her face felt like it was going to be pounded clean off. Keeping her balance was impossible, and she felt her body overbalance, her weight going right as it dragged her to the gaping hole beside her, set with thousands of jagged teeth.

Hands caught her right before she went down, and she heard Sunny hiss, light years away, "En! En, for god's sake, are you alright?"

She couldn't reply, only wait, relatively safe in Sunny's arms, until the seizure passed. Eventually it did, fresh sweat breaking out on her skin with every heartbeat, and the pain in her head gradually lessening, beat by beat. At length she could open her eyes. She felt drool on her lips and chin, but that was the least of her concerns. Cheyenne was licking the back of her hand, out of concern or to lick up the salt on her skin, it didn't matter.

"You okay, sweetie?" Sunny asked, only miles away now.

"Yuh…yeah, I'll be okay," En slurred. "Man, of all the times…"

"Mm," Sunny whispered. "Looks like Ringo was right about those things coming up at bad times. Can you move on?"

"I… I think so."

"Then let's go. I'm getting antsy with those deathclaws down there."

En cast a quick, pained glance down into the pit. "Yeah they're… they're definitely agi… agitated. We need to get going."

"I'm letting you go now, grab onto me if you think you'll fall, okay?"

"… kay."

Sunny's grip slowly became looser, until her hands had released En entirely. She was still a bit wobbly, but she could move on. She had to. She didn't know if those deathclaws could see her so high up, but she sure as Hell didn't want to take the chance. So she slowly, uncertainly put one foot before the other, clearing the distance to Ringo, who already sat at the end of the ledge, his hands outstretched to grab her when she came close enough. As she did so, Ringo's hands closed around hers and he pulled her to solid ground.

"Damn, that was close for a second there," he breathed. "Hadn't seen you were having another one, so I was unable to come to your aid."

"It's okay," she panted as Sunny joined them on the pass between the two rocks. "But we're not taking this path when we come back, that okay?"

Sunny nodded. "Fine by me. Damn, that was a close one."

En briefly gave Sunny a hug. "Thanks for coming to help back there. I'd have been dead if you hadn't…" she shuddered at the thought of the sharp stones hacking off her skin.

"That's alright, sweetie. Had to rush over there though, lucky we didn't both take a nose dive into the cheese grater."

Which was exactly why En was so thankful. It must have been an immense risk for Sunny to actually bolt to her without crashing down herself, or without being so noisy the deathclaws heard. Big sister complex or not, Sunny deserved all of En's admiration.

"Let's go ladies," Ringo told them. "Best to get as far away from those deathclaws as possible."

They went on, through the pass, a narrow natural road enclosed by almost vertical rock ledges, which were unscalable, and at times scarily high. This pass must have been cut out by erosion over the years, En figured. Ringo had explained it was a short cut to the Red Rocks, where his caravan had come from on its return trip back to the Crimson Caravan HQ. The caravan had been planned to take the long way around, but since they were on foot, this path had been shorter, cutting off a long detour and merging with the caravan path a ways further. It had been close to that merger that his caravan had been hit by the Powder Gangers. Ringo had never explained what exactly had happened and why the shooting had started, but En figured he'd tell them if he thought it was opportune.

Two figures could be seen a ways further, making their way towards them through the pass. They didn't look very threatening, without weapons in their hands, but you never knew with people here. The sun was in her eyes, shining brightly into the pass, so En could only see the outlines of the two.

As they came closer, Ringo hugged the wall on the right side to let them pass, and Sunny and En did the same.

"Khans," Ringo said. "Not dangerous unless provoked. Just let them pass and it'll be fine."

"Sure," En replied.

The two Khans had reached them, and the one in front nodded his head in greeting. Ringo replied with a business-like, "Morning," even though it was already past noon.

The second Khan, a female, gave Ringo a brief smile and said, "How are you," in a strange accent. That accent! As the female Khan's eyes crossed En's, both of their mouths fell open, and simultaneously, they drew their guns and aimed them at each other's faces.

"Whoa, whoa!" Ringo shouted, drawing his own weapon, as did Sunny and the other Khan. "What the Hell? We're just passing through here! En, put that thing aw – "

Sunny shouted over him, at the female Khan, "Put it down! Put it down, right now!"

Cheyenne barked like mad.

"You put it down, tourist fucks," the male Khan shouted back at her.

En and the female Khan ignored the shouting and just stood staring at each other. The others all fell silent, nervously holding their guns, waiting for En or the Khan to speak and at least tell them why they'd both pulled their weapon at the same time, the Khan's submachine gun dwarfing En's Beretta.

"No way…" the female Khan with the tanned skin breathed. Her face was completely mortified, and all the colour had drawn from it, making her dark skin deathly pale.

En just remained silent, her concentration on the other's face and on her own gun, unable to find words.

"We… we…" the other woman gasped. "We killed you."

Only Sunny uttered a sound. "Wh… whuh?"

"You're dead," the female Khan breathed, her face still terrified. "We shot you. Buried you. How…"

At last, En was able to speak. "You were one of them. That night." She shoved her gun closer to the woman's face and felt her lips curl away from her teeth. "You gave him the gun!"

It was her alright, the Khan that had been present at her execution, the tan-skinned girl with the goth boots, the dark purple double mohawk and the strange accent.

"She's one of them?" Sunny shouted. "One of the worthless pieces of shit that shot a sixteen-year-old kid in the head?"

"What the Hell?" the male Khan barked. "What the _Hell_, Melissa?"

"You were… it was just a job," the Khan (Melissa, her name was apparently) explained, stammering and panting. "It was business. Nothing… nothing personal."

"Bullshit," En hissed. "You gave that bastard in his checkered suit his gun so he could shoot me in the head! Don't tell me that's business!" She let one hand go of the gun and pointed at her temple. "Look at this mess, god dammit! Look at it and tell me that's _business_!"

"Sloppy shit, Melissa!" the male Khan yelled. "Papa hates sloppy work, dammit, especially when it's something… shit, something that would be _very_ bad publicity if it comes out! Fuck!"

"Bad publicity?" En shouted, not knowing what she was hearing. "All you have to say is that it's _bad fucking publicity_?"

"Alright, alright," Ringo tried to calm the situation. "Let's talk about this rationally. Everybody put their weapons down and – "

But Ringo's plea was futile. Faster than En or anyone else could react, Cheyenne leapt up and set her teeth into the wrist of Melissa the Khan, the enormous force of the bite taking the strength out of the woman's fingers, and they lost their grip on her submachine gun. Sunny was the first to react, whacking the other Khan in the jaw with the butt of her pistol as his shot went off, the bullet impacting into the stone wall. Ringo threw his weight against the Khan woman, bowling her over along with Cheyenne, and pistoned his fist into her face, knocking her lights out.

The Khan Sunny had smacked with the pistol staggered back, obviously knock-out from the blow. "Go," Sunny said calmly. "This doesn't concern you. Go or I shoot you where you stand."

"But Melissa – " he began, sounding drunk from the blow.

"She's got a lot of explaining to do," Sunny told him. "Now _leave_."

After a moment's hesitation, the Khan staggered off, still holding his face.

"Tie her up," En ordered Ringo as he clambered to his feet after the body-slam and Cheyenne went to her master for shoulder-pats.

"Got something better," Ringo grunted, setting his knee down on the Khan's shoulder, slinging his backpack off, and stuffing his hand in it, bringing it back up holding a pair of handcuffs. The Melissa-woman was only half-conscious and no longer struggling, her right wrist bleeding from the bite Cheyenne had given it. It was a serious wound, but didn't look like it could lead to dangerous exsanguination. Ringo pulled her arms behind her back, slapped the cuffs on her wrists, and pulled her up by the collar of her leather jacket. Being pulled up seemed to jerk the consciousness back into her.

En still held her pistol, and she aimed it at the woman's forehead. "On your knees."

"Listen – " she began, still looking disoriented.

"I said on your knees," En shrieked, as rage took hold of her. "Where is he?"

"Wh – "

"Where _is he_?" she shouted again, setting the muzzle of her Beretta against the Khan's forehead.

"Puh… Paid us after the… after it was done," the woman stammered, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth twisted in fear, but only slightly. This was a Khan, and from what En had heard about them, they weren't cowards. "I have an idea of where he's gone, but I won't tell you if you're going to shoot me anyway. Listen, I wasn't – "

"Shut up!"

She continued regardless, still with her eyes closed, "Listen, let me explain, just let me expl – "

"Did you let _me_ explain?" En screamed. "Did you let _me_ say anything? You didn't even ask my _name_! You threw away the picture of my parents like it was trash!"

"Wasn't… wasn't us. He took your wallet."

"I don't fucking c – " En shrieked, but she broke off as a pounding, hammering blast of pain smashed through her head, so painful her vision instantly blacked out and she wobbled and fell to her knees, in front of the woman she was about to execute in the same way they'd shot her. She heard herself let out an inarticulate yelp and her hands reflexively took hold of her skull, her pistol still in her right.

"En!" she heard Sunny scream, panicked. "En, are you alright?"

The blasting pain lessened, and as it went, so did the hysteria that had taken hold of her. She didn't know if she was still intent on shooting this woman, but at least she could think more rationally now. Ringo had set his pistol to the back of the Khan's neck, to keep her from trying anything. En got up, despite the pain in her head, and lifted her pistol again.

"For what it's worth," Melissa said, her eyes open and fixed on En. "For both my conscience and for you, I'm glad you survived."

Shit, she actually meant it. En's jaw worked furiously as she tried to decide on what to do, conflicting feelings racing through her aching head. Part of her wanted to shoot the woman, same way they'd shot her, but what gain would that be? That all her hatred for the bedridden days and the headaches, the seizures, the nausea, would be driven out of her head as this woman's brains were driven out of hers. But despite the hate for this woman and her accomplices, she knew she'd hate herself even more if she executed a defenceless person, even one who'd tried to kill her. But oh, how she _ached_ to!

"I… I don't know what to do," she said in a trembling voice.

"Eye for an eye," Sunny said casually, stroking Cheyenne's head. "She's one of the reasons you have these seizures, one of the reasons your head'll be scarred for the rest of your life. Besides, you can't let her live now, she knows you're alive and that sooner or later, you'll be a threat. Shoot her."

"If you shoot her though," Ringo remarked, "Then you lose every hope of finding the man who was behind all this. Shooting her now will only give you the quick, fleeting satisfaction of revenge, but you'll be left hollow inside, take that from me. You're a good person, En. Don't let these evil feelings of revenge take that away, don't let them turn you into a cold, evil, heartless woman that shoots people on their knees." But then he added with a shrug, "But I understand your feelings, and respect your decision. Do as you will."

Breathing hard through her nose, En kept the pistol aimed at the Khan's forehead. She wanted to blow her brains out, to see her twitching and gurgling on the ground as the life drained out of her, but Ringo was right. Kill her now and she'd forever lose the chance of finding the man in the checkered suit. Her hand trembled. Fuck, she wanted to. Her finger curled around the trigger, and as it did, the Beretta's hammer moved slightly back. Melissa the Khan lowered her head and accepted her fate, but for some reason, as En saw the black stubble on her scalp where she'd shaven her head, the dots that were all hairs, all a part of this woman, the humanity of this person was driven into her. God dammit, this was a human being, and no matter what she'd done, she was a living, breathing person with hopes and dreams and emotions and parents and maybe even children.

_You take away all he has. All he's ever gonna have._

Letting out the air that had built up into her lungs, she lowered the pistol. "Get her on her feet please, Ringo. We're taking her prisoner."

Like En, Melissa let the held-up breath in her lungs escape with a long, ragged sigh.

"Not sure if that's a wise thing to do, sweetie," Sunny said carefully.

"Me neither, but if I shoot her, then… I'm no better than they are."

Ringo nodded. "A cliché as high as a house, but still absolutely true. You made the right decision, miss En, even though this woman doesn't deserve your mercy, you deserve to know you did the right thing."

"So we bring this vermin along then?" Sunny asked. "We'll be lucky if she doesn't kill us in our sleep."

"To be honest," Ringo grunted as he pulled the silent Melissa to her feet, "I don't think our new friend will under-appreciate the incomparable act of mercy that's just been bestowed on her."

The Khan was still silent, but En could tell that she knew. She knew how thankful she should be that En hadn't applied the same judgment on her that she'd gotten on that hill overlooking Goodsprings.

"I don't think promises mean that much to human waste like you," Sunny bit at the woman, "but I'd still like to hear you make one. Promise right now, that you won't try any funny business. And if you're planning on making a false promise, remember that Cheyenne here is faster than you could ever be."

The woman clearly felt humiliated and dishonoured, and her shame and despair stood clearly on her face. "Yeah, alright. Promised, if you let me live. Now please, I feel broken enough as it is."

Sunny stuck to a simple, "Good."

"Ringo, could you take a look at her wrist, though?" En asked him, not only because she assumed he'd be better at that sort of thing, but also because Sunny, like En herself, was too hateful of the woman to actually give her any care. "Don't want her bleeding out or dying from infection."

Silently, Ringo undid the handcuffs on her wrists, as Sunny kept her pistol firmly trained on the woman. Ringo loosened the buckles of the black leather braces she wore and applied disinfectant and a bandage to her wrist. "That'll fix you up."

"Thanks," Melissa muttered quietly, looking away. It looked like it took an effort to say.

"Here's what we're going to do," En said curtly, snatching up Melissa's dropped SMG. "We're going to take care of some personal business, and then you're going to take us to the place my friend in the checkered suit is holed up in. For now, you're staying in handcuffs."

"If it's alright with you though," Ringo suggested, "we can cuff her hands in front of her. That wrist will give her tremendous agony if we do it behind her back."

"Yeah, sure," En conceded. "But keep an eye on her."

"Will do. You can hand me the submachine gun if that's alright. I could use something better than this SIG."

Silently, En gave him the weapon when he was done applying the handcuffs to Melissa's wrists. "Walther MP," he remarked, turning the weapon over in his hands. "Bit old, but it'll do the trick."

Melissa didn't comment.

"Let's go take care of Ringo's business now," Sunny said curtly, clearly not at ease with En's decision to being the captured Khan along.

They silently went through the pass, and emerged on a broad hill trail, clearly worn by brahmin hooves and tyre tracks from the wagons the two-headed cows pulled.

"It's just a ways further," Ringo remarked, pointing in the direction of the lowering sun. A look at her Pip-boy told En it was about five in the afternoon. Ringo had taken point with the cuffed Melissa in front of him, her own submachine gun pointed firmly at her back. En and Sunny walked a ways behind.

"Are you _sure_ about this, sweetie?" Sunny asked quietly.

"I don't know, Sunny, I really don't," she replied. "I might be making a huge mistake, but I just… couldn't shoot her."

"Mm," Sunny admitted. "Maybe best that you didn't. I'd have shot her without a moment's hesitation, but… I guess it's too late for me to try and hold on to my innocence."

"Aw, come on, don't get all dramatic on me," En said with a grin.

Sunny chuckled, "Alright I was being a bit theatrical. But it's true though. You're still young, and… well, it was the right decision not to kill her, I suppose."

"I think so too."

"But having her actually tag along… I don't know."

En thought for a second. "I don't like it that much either, but it's the best thing to do, I think. I need to know where that guy in his checkered suit went. I didn't shoot her, but I can't let her go either. So this is best. Plus, we might need her to track him down after she told us where he was headed. If he's moved on or something."

"Mm. I'm still not comfortable with this. She tried to kill you once already."

"Hey, I got you and Cheyenne to protect me, right?" En said with a smile. It was more meant to cheer her up than anything else, but it seemed to do the trick. Sunny smiled back and said, "Damn straight."

"And besides, she certainly _looks_ like she's sorry."

"Muh. I'll believe that when she's shown us the way and we can dump her without getting our throats slashed."

"I'm sure it won't come to that."

With a grin, Sunny concluded, "Well, unless you start working those charms that get you beat up in bars again."

They'd reached a hilltop, and Ringo abruptly stopped. "Take her," he told Sunny, waving his gun at Melissa's back.

Silently, Sunny obliged and drew her own pistol, keeping it on their captured companion, who squatted to relieve the pressure of the long walk from her knees. En was surprised to realize she actually felt sorry for the girl with the two mohawks, taken prisoner by people she didn't know. Sure, she'd done something terrible, but En could only surmise how awful and alone she must feel now. Still, she ought to be lucky she was still alive.

Ringo, in the meantime, had walked to the highest point of the hilltop and stood looking down, his hands in his sides. En checked if Sunny had their prisoner secured, and then went to stand next to him. The hill overlooked a gentle valley with a road running through it. There was some vegetation here, mainly dry shrubs and withered little trees. In the middle of the road lay a looted brahmin cart, but there were no bodies.

"What the Hell?" Ringo muttered. Then he walked down the hill, into the valley.

"We'll be right back, Sunny," En called back, and followed Ringo down the slope.

"Chipper and Tina were lying right here when I last saw them."

Indeed, there was dried blood on the rocks, but no bodies. And as En turned her head, she realized why. "Ringo, look."

Two mounds of rocks had been piled up at the foot of a large boulder, each mound set with a wooden cross. "Maybe someone already…"

"Yeah," Ringo said, walking to the graves. "Looks like someone took care of my friends already." He squatted down at the wooden crosses. "Wonder who it was."

En laid a hand on his shoulder. "Doesn't really matter, does it?"

"I would've liked to thank the man."

"Or the woman," En couldn't resist adding.

With a chuckle, Ringo corrected, "or the woman."

"But hey," she told him, "it's definitely nice to see that there are still good, honest people around, right?"

He rose and said, "Absolutely." Then he looked around, walked over to a broc flower plant and picked two flowers, carefully placing one on each grave. "Looks like someone better than me already took care of you both. Sleep well, my friends."


	13. A Hint of Kindness

**.  
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**THIRTEEN**

**Red Rocks Caravan Trail**

**June 30th**

**18:22**

Ringo stood looking at the graves for a moment longer, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed. "As painful as it is to see my friends dead…" he said quietly, "… it still warms the heart that someone took the time to lay them to rest when I couldn't."

En was glad he saw the positive side of things. "Absolutely," she agreed. "It's good to know there's still decent people in the world."

"Wonder who it was."

"Mm. Doesn't really matter though, does it?"

"I suppose it doesn't, no." He sighed, tearing his eyes away from the mounds of stone. "So, what happens now?"

It was a question she'd been asking herself too. And she was still conflicted. Go home, to safety and comfort, or stay here, in the Mojave, to go after the man that had shot her, to get some answers. It would be a dangerous journey, that much was certain, and in the end, all she'd get to show for it was some bullshit explanation about why she'd had to eat a bullet, but on the other hand, would she be able to live the rest of her life not knowing? With regret eating at her, telling her that if she'd only persevered for a little longer, she'd have known the truth, but that she hadn't, and so she had to wonder for the rest of her life why she'd been saddled with those headaches, those seizures, and those questions?

"I can tell you're still undecided," Ringo remarked.

"Not anymore," En said fiercely. "Running into that woman up there was too much of a coincidence for me to just let that go. I'm not superstitious or anything, but us actually stumbling on one of my killers, that's… I don't know. Feels like… that's trying to tell me something, you know?"

He nodded. "I thought the same. It's a sign, and you need to respect signs."

She waved the whole sign-business away. "Like I said, I'm not superstitious, but my gut tells me I need to follow up on this. So that's what I'm gonna do."

"Good call."

"And hey," she added with a smile, "this way I get to spend some more time around you guys, right?"

With a chuckle, Ringo said, "It's nothing but gain."

Looking up at the mountain path where Sunny stood with their prisoner, En decided to go out on a limb and take a little risk. "And hey," she told Ringo, "that way you and Sunny have more time to get to know each other better, too."

Ringo only showed the slightest hint of reaction, but it was enough for En to know she'd hit the mark. Trying to appear as neutral as possible, he asked, "You think she'd be partial to that notion?"

"I dunno, Ringo," she said mysteriously. "Suppose you'd have to make a pass at her, see how she reacts, yeah?"

"Make a pass?"

"M-hm. Show you're interested, see if she shows interest in return." En thought to herself how ridiculous it was, what she was saying. Of course Sunny was interested, Ringo must be blind as a bat not to have noticed. Still, if he needed a prod, why not give it to him. "Start off subtle, you know. And maybe loosen up on the stiff language?"

Ringo looked up at Sunny too, standing around, keeping her pistol lazily on the captured Khan's head. Their prisoner sat down, fidgeting with the pebbles on the ground, looking bored, but probably feeling far worse things than boredom. En couldn't believe her heart when it told her she kinda felt sorry for the woman.

Ringo stuck to a neutral, "Well, we'll see," and began scampering back up the hill. "Come on, let's go find your killer."

"Someone already buried your friends, huh?" Sunny asked when they rejoined her.

"Yep," En said cheerfully. "Some kind soul wandering the Wastes, probably."

"Well, that's… good, I suppose."

"Sure is." Ringo took out his pistol. "I'll take over again if you like?"

"Please," Sunny said, putting her weapon away. "Be nice to get rid of that itch in my finger."

"Sunny, come on," En pleaded. "She's been punished enough." Then she said to the prisoner, "If you lead us where we want to go, without trying anything funny, I'll promise I'll set you free."

Melissa didn't even look up and simply said quietly, "Alright." Her accent sounded like in those old pre-War soap operas… was it Australian?

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Sunny asked, taking En by the arm and leading her a ways further so they could speak in private. She seemed to be slightly bothered by En's friendliness. "Only two hours ago, you still wanted to shoot her."

"I'm calmer now," En merely replied. "Had some time to think about things. Not saying I forgive anyone for anything, but there's no point making it worse for her. And I believe her when she says she's sorry." En looked back at her again, as she exchanged a few words with Ringo. She _was_ sorry, En was sure of it, and not just because she'd been caught. Even though she'd caved after a few tries, she _had_ tried to stop that suit-wearing blindshooter, which was more than the other guy had done. Looking at her, she was no more than twenty-five. Not bad-looking, despite the awful haircut. She had a slight hint of dentist's cheeks, as they'd called it back in New Arroyo, cheeks that were slightly swollen around the lower jaw, but it actually suited her well. And her skin, though dirty, was a lustrous dark gold tan in colour. En wondered what mix of races she was.

"I really don't think she deserves – "

"I know, Sunny," En interrupted gently. "And I know you feel that way because you care about me, but I'm the one who was shot, it's my decision. I'm asking you to respect that. Because we're friends."

Sunny spread her hands. "Fair enough."

"Come on, let's go. We've got work to do," En told her with a smile, squeezing her hand.

"Yep. Let's go find that checkered-suit-wearing sharpshooter."

Ringo patiently stood waiting for them to finish their conversation and return, then announced, "We know our next destination."

En made a short acknowledging nod at Melissa, who'd risen and stood looking at her boots, and asked, "Right, where to?"

"Last I heard," Melissa said quietly, looking up briefly, "Him and my brother went in the direction of Nipton. Don't know where they w – "

"Wait a minute," En interrupted. "The other guy was your brother?"

Melissa permitted herself an impatient glare. "Every Khan is my brother."

"Oh. Like that. Right, carry on."

She shrugged. "That's it. Don't know where they could have gone next."

A raven flew overhead, cawing, making a circle, and then swooping down to what was probably a meal hidden behind a hill.

"Alright, at least that's something," Ringo said with a nod. "If I lower my weapon, will you be good?"

Her dark brown eyes flashed, her humiliating situation temporarily forgotten. "Be good? I'm a Great Khan, not a flaming ten-year-old."

Unperturbed, Ringo repeated, "I ask again, if I lower my weapon, will you be good, 'Great Khan'?"

That seemed to be enough to make her again realize just which position she was in. Less fiery, she said, "I won't try anything." Then, looking at En, she added, "In return, I'd appreciate being treated with some respect."

"You've got all the respect you have a right to by being allowed to live," Sunny said curtly.

"Sun_ny_," En insisted gently. "You're sweet to be so protective and concerned about me, but I'm sure this woman realizes the position she's in. And I don't see the harm in treating her like an adult human being."

"Neither do I," Ringo agreed. He pronounced it 'nyther' instead of 'neether'. Odd. "If she plays fair by us, she deserves decent treatment at least."

Sunny kicked a pebble away, sending it skittering down into the little valley where Ringo's friends had been buried. "Fine. I just… nevermind."

"I know, Sunny," En soothed. "And I love you for it, don't ever doubt that."

"I said I felt awful about what's happened," Melissa told Sunny, looking her in the eye. "I can't undo it, but I'm doing what I can to make it right. I don't need this despise from you."

Sunny only flatly replied, "Too bad."

"Alright, this is getting us nowhere," Ringo settled things. "We all need more time getting used to this situation. No point bickering until we've learned to appreciate each other."

En nodded. "That's right. I understand both of you, I really do, but we won't be able to get this worked out in ten minutes."

"Yeah. Now let's move," Sunny said. "We're wasting time chewing the fat here."

They descended down the mountain trail, giving the deathclaw quarry a wide berth. As they reached the I-15, En checked her Pip-boy. "Okay, so now to Nipton, it's… South, past Primm, and then East." She squinted at the screen, trying to make out a small landmark. "Past a village called... Sloan, I think?"

"Yeh," Melissa said quietly. "My hometown."

Sloan lay a ways further, cradled by the mountains on the West side. It was a teeny-tiny mining town, consisting of a few rickety shacks, mostly. Melissa's hometown didn't look all that impressive. Then again, mining towns rarely did.

"Hey, seeing as this is my hometown," Melissa held up her cuffed hands. "Um, any chance of…?"

"No," En immediately said. "Not yet, Melissa. Sunny's right, we need to take this slowly."

With an angry sigh, she let her hands fall down. Ringo took off his leather jacket and draped it over Melissa's wrists, hiding the cuffs. "At least that provides some discretion."

He got a quiet, muttered "Thanks" in reply.

An older man wearing a faded lumberjack shirt and a yellow hardhat stood leaning on the sign welcoming strangers to the town. When he saw the small band of people approaching, he squinted at them, his jaw ceasing the chewing motion it had been making for what was probably hours now.

"Ah shit," Melissa cursed. "My dad."

The old man laboriously walked toward them. "I'll be damned. If it ain't my Mel showin' her pretty little face after such a long time. Figured you'd be too busy as-so-cee-ay-tin' with yer tough-talkin' buddies to pay yer old pa a visit."

Looking incredibly embarrassed, Melissa muttered, "Hey dad."

"These your friends?"

She chuckled humourlessly. "I wouldn't exactly…" but then she stopped herself and settled for, "Yeah, they're friends."

The old man ticked his hardhat with two fingers. "Well, nice to see my little Mel with some decent-lookin' folks 'round her for a change. How are you fine people doin'? Chomps Lewis, at yer service."

"Hi, I'm En, this is Sunny and Ringo." Oops, she almost forgot one. "And that's Cheyenne."

"Your daughter has kindly offered to help us find someone," Ringo said. "Hope you don't mind if she takes a little trip with us?"

He laughed hoarsely. "Sonny, trust me, if I minded, that'll probably just spur 'er on even more. Kid's got too much of her mother in her to listen to an old fool like me."

"Yeah, alright," Melissa said sharply. "Dad, we gotta go now, alright?" In her strange Australian sounding accent, it sounded more like 'awroite'.

Chomps Lewis made a throw-away gesture with his hand. "Tch. Go on then. Damn kids, never got time for their – " But he broke off when he noticed Melissa's hands. Slowly, he walked towards her, then pulled the jacket away, revealing her cuffed wrists. Melissa rolled her eyes and hissed, "Shit."

"What have you been _doin'_, Mel?" her father barked at her. "Are these people cops?"

"No, I – " Melissa began, but Chomps slapped her hard on the side of her head. "If you've been caught dealin' those damned chems, then even these cops won't be able to save you!"

"Whoa, hey!" En tried to calm things down. "We're not cops, we – "

Even though he was a head shorter than his daughter, Chomps Lewis again lashed out at Melissa, whacking her hard across the face. "God dammit, Mel! Your mothr and I broke our _backs_ tryin' to raise you right, an' this is how you repay me an' her memory? By gettin' fuckin' _arrested_?" Melissa seemed to have shrunk under the blow, the proud Great Khan reduced to a little, scared girl.

"Mr. Lewis," Ringo attempted in turn, "We're not the police and your daughter hasn't – "

"What'd you do, Mel?" the old man spat at her, unperturbed.

Melissa kept her head lowered, her eyes briefly meeting En's, and then she merely said. "I killed someone."

Chomps Lewis' eyes went wide, and his jaw looked like it was going to fall out of his face. "_What_?" he shouted, froth flying from his lips. "You did _what_?"

"Look, dad," she tried to defend herself. "I'm paying for my – "

Another slap went across her face, this one hard enough to make her stagger backward, blood spraying from her nose.

En knew it was never a good idea to come between the discipline of a man and his daughter, but there was no way she'd allow for this abuse to continue, whether or not the woman had shot her. Her hand went to her hip and she inhaled to shout, but someone unexpected beat her to it.

"Stop!" Sunny commanded abruptly, her pistol aimed at old man Lewis' head. "Enough."

Breathing heavily, Chomps set his hardhat straight and spat at the ground in front of the withered Melissa. "You've forgotten the face of your father, Mel. And now I'm forgettin' yours. Let the fuckin' cops take you. Maybe when your years in jail are done, I might remember havin' a daughter."

"Look, Mr. Lewis," En tried to explain, even though she had to struggle to remain polite. "We're not cops and your daughter's not a murderer."

"Bullshit," the man barked. "Trust me, there's no way my Mel would confess to me 'bout a crime she ain't done."

En pointed at the scar on the side of her head. "It's me, alright? Someone who hired her tried to kill me. She only helped without knowing what she was doing." It was stretching the truth more than a little, but it was justified in this case. "And now she's paying for it by helping me find the man who shot me."

"That so."

"Yeah, it's so."

"This true, Mel?"

"… Yeah."

Lewis stood, his hands still balled into fists, glaring at his daughter. At length he said to En, "Don't be judgin' me too harshly, now. I did everything I could, me an' my late wife, to raise Mel to be a good girl. It's breakin' my heart to see her turn into a damn street thug." Melissa simply stood looking at the ground, letting the blood drip from her nostrils, down her chin and onto her leather jacket. "An' I'm sick an' tired of bein' so god damned powerless."

"I understand," Ringo soothed, "But hitting her isn't going to help. It'll only drive her further away. If you want to help her, if you want her to find the straight path again, let her come with us and set her wrongs right."

"Oh she's comin' with you alright," he grated. "Cause right now, I don't wanna see her thankless face no more."

Abruptly, Melissa walked past her father and said, "Good, then we can go."

Lewis responded in kind, turning sharply and marching back to Sloan.

En and the others were left behind, confused. "Umm?"

With a shrug, Ringo picked up his fallen jacket and suggested, "Guess we ought to follow her, right?"

En took a tissue out of her jacket pocket. "I… guess." She jogged after Melissa and held the tissue out to her. "Hey."

Melissa didn't accept it. "I don't care what you're gonna say. Let's just find that fucker Benny and be done with it."

She held the tissue out a little longer, but when there was still no response, she let it fall to the ground. "Fine. Let's."

The atmosphere was a little shot at that point, and the walking was mostly done in silence.

Ringo was the one who spoke first, after about an hour, as darkness fell. "Pretty certain we won't be able to make it to Primm tonight. And I don't think it's a good idea to march all night."

"Nu-uh," Sunny agreed. "Best make camp."

En pointed her chin at a caravan site a ways off the road. "Pretty sure those caravans are all wasted, but with any luck, they'll still provide some shelter."

By an extraordinary stroke of luck, a tree had fallen several months ago, crashed through the roof of one of the caravans, and lost most of its branches. Those had been mostly sheltered and, according to Ringo, were nicely dried. So there was the possibility of a camp fire, which was definitely a step or two above Ringo's little stove in terms of cosiness. Ringo hauled the wood out to the centre of the caravan camp, with Melissa standing around uncomfortably while En and Sunny finished getting their beds ready. The Khan still had caked blood on her upper lip, but apparently refused to scrub it off.

"You know," Sunny told the others, "Just after night's fallen, most animals get active. How 'bout En and I go and see if we can shoot ourselves a bunny to roast while you build the fire to do the roasting by?" En didn't remember volunteering for hunting duty, but she supposed it might be best if Sunny spent some time away from their new travelling companion.

Ringo shrugged absently, concentrated on neatly arranging the wood to get the fire going as cleanly as possible. "Sure, can always try."

"Cool. C'mon, sweetie, let's go."

"Uh... sure, yeah."

Sunny led her away from the camp, in the direction of the hills. "We gotta be careful though," she whispered. "We're close to NCRCF here."

Hold on, NCRCF, what was that again... oh, right, the place those Powder Gangers had taken over. Yeah, best stay away from there.

"Now, Ringo might be the most intrepid camping guru," Sunny went on, "but hunting, that's always been my thing. The second Cheyenne smells something, we'll send her to startle some critters out of their homes. And with your new-found sniping skills, it'll be peanuts for you to shoot 'em, right?"

"I... guess." Sunny seemed to never mind that the place was completely dark, and you couldn't see more than ten metres.

"So hey," Sunny said as they walked. "You still sure about bringing that Melissa chick along?"

Should've known she'd use the private time to hammer some more on that subject. Still, En knew she only did it out of concern, so she resolved to be patient about it. "I'm sure, Sunny. I know how you feel about her, and trust me, I felt that way too at first, but the more I think about it, you know, think about it _rationally_," she emphasised the word, hoping Sunny would take the hint, "... the more I think she won't try anything nasty."

"We're going to have to sleep soon," Sunny said grimly, looking out at the barely perceptible hills. "I hope you're right, for her sake, because Cheyenne won't give her the time of day if she decides to get cute."

"Look, I don't trust her either," En tried to keep the middle ground. "But you need to understand what she's going through right now, even if it is something she deserved. For all she knows, we'll still shoot her like a dog once we have what we want."

"It's... good that you didn't shoot her, I suppose," Sunny admitted. "But I'd hate to see you get your throat cut in the night as gratitude for your mercy."

"I'm sure it won't come to th - "

"Shh," Sunny hissed, pointing at Cheyenne. The german shepherd was sniffing at the air, and whining softly. Then, in complete silence, she stalked off to a nearby mound of earth and stood waiting there, looking at her mistress for orders.

"Get 'em, girl!" Sunny quietly ordered the dog, and Cheyenne stuck her nose into a small hole in the earth, sniffing around and scratching her paws at the tunnel mouth.

"There!" Sunny hissed, and En saw a small rabbit emerge from a nearby hole and scoot off. Sunny kept it in the beam of her flashlight. "Blast him, sweetie!"

With a sigh, En shouldered her rifle, tracked the rabbit in the weapon's sights, and slightly leading the target, she fired. As the shot rang through the night, the rabbit was whacked into the air, flew end over and, and then landed on the earth with a soft thud.

Sunny whooped and jogged to the place of the bunny's demise. Snatching up the dead rabbit and holding it aloft, she triumphantly roared, "Victory!"

En smiled and pumped a fist in the air. "What I did, I did for all mankind!"

"Well, this beast has been slain," Sunny confirmed. "Dead before it knew it."

"We're lucky it didn't bite our heads off," En joked.

"Mm?"

She chuckled. "Never mind."

* * *

><p>"In case you were so inclined but didn't know it was allowed, I'd like to just make it clear that I did not forbid you to help," Ringo told the woman standing by his wood pile, doing nothing.<p>

In response, Melissa flung herself down on her ass and looked away.

"Very well." Couldn't blame her for not being too eager to help. Still, Ringo didn't really understand people who weren't constructive about their situation. Sure, the woman could sit and mope all she wanted, but what good would that do? Would anyone of his group be inclined to treat her better if she just kept on pouting? Ringo respected pride, absolutely, but being too proud to make your situation better, that was just absurd.

As if she'd heard his thoughts, the double-bemohawked woman rose and trudged over to Ringo's wood stack. "Hey, um..."

"Arrange the wood like this, so we get a little tower," Ringo said. Heh, he just couldn't resist such occasions. The woman clearly wanted him to stop and say, 'Yes, what's on your mind?', but it was one of Ringo's admittedly pettier habits to deliberately not do what was expected in such situations. And even though he shared En's estimate that she wouldn't attempt to strangle him, he still took care not to let her get behind him.

Surprisingly (again), she picked up a branch, awkwardly with her hands cuffed, and carefully set it against the framework Ringo had already prepared. She tried another, "Hey, um..."

This time he did indulge her. "I'm listening."

She inhaled and let the air out slowly. "I'm not good at this, but I need to say thank you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he told her. "But you can't keep them, they're just loaners," pointing at the cuffs.

Surprise, surprise (it was surprise-hour apparently), she actually flashed a brief smile. "I meant, for talking your friend out of shooting me. If you hadn't spoken up – "

He waved what she said away. He'd never believed in rubbing it in, or saddling people with guilt. The woman clearly felt awful about getting En injured, he didn't need her apology or her gratitude to see that. Plus, she was apologizing to the wrong person. "I'm not the one you be grateful to. Miss En decided not to pull that trigger, she's the one you should thank."

"I've got lots more to do than just thank her." Ringo was glad she realized it. "But regardless, you spoke up for me even though you all must have thought I deserved a bullet."

He shrugged. "I just did what I thought was right."

"Yeah, well thanks."

"That's fine." Staying on the subject any longer would probably be awkward, so he decided to shift the topic, maybe get to know the woman a little better. What she'd done to En was scandalous, but she was paying for it, and hating had never been his style. Which made him worry about Sunny. True, she was acting out of care for En, and probably somehow feeling guilty that she hadn't been there to protect her, but still, her inability to abandon her hate for this woman, or even conceal it, that was worrisome. But the topic needed changing. "So that's an unusual accent you have." Double mohawks, unwashed grimy skin and gang tattoos didn't entice Ringo in the least, but even though the woman wasn't sexy, the accent most definitely was. "Sounds... Australian, yes?"

"Close," she said without much enthusiasm. "New Zealand. My mother was actually one of the few remaining Maori."

"Ahhhh," Ringo understood. "Hence the darker skin tone. Well, underneath all that dirt."

"Yeah."

"But I thought the Maori were – "

"Parents came from a Vault," she interrupted. It was clear that she didn't want to continue this line of conversation. "Was a melting pot."

"Right."

She breathed, then held up her wrists again. "Can I ask you again though, if those can come off?"

That question again. Not only was it not his decision, but she'd have to do a lot more than just make some friendly conversation on a cold night in a caravan park. Sure, he believed her when she made it apparent that she was sorry, but even the most repentant, well-intentioned wrongdoers were sometimes unable to resist the temptation to run away from their mistakes, or worse, remove those who knew of their crimes, as if that would silence the voice inside them. "Melissa, you're miss En's prisoner, not mine. And don't misunderstand this, but I dare say it'll take a long time before she, or I, can actually trust you, rather than just give you the tentative benefit of the doubt. Not to _mention_ Sunny."

She let her hands drop, as she'd done the other time she'd asked the question. "Yeah. Sunny. What's her problem?"

Was she serious? Ringo had to blink at the question. "You shot her friend. In the _head_."

Melissa carefully picked up another piece of wood and balanced it against the already half-completed tower. "I know, I know, but... if her friend seems to be able to put it behind her, why can't she?" The piece of wood slid off the tower and plunked in the sand.

"You're asking the wrong person," Ringo said to her. "But if you want my opinion..." It might not be a good idea to speculate about Sunny's feelings to this woman, but on the other hand, if she understood Sunny better, then she might be more tolerant of Sunny's bile, which may lead to Sunny in turn accepting her better. Maybe. "... Sunny's mad at you for hurting her friend, that's definitely the main reason. But another thing that's making it so hard for her to let bygones be bygones is that she, well..." He hoped he wasn't making a mistake saying this, "... because she sees miss En as her protégé, her surrogate little sister, if you will. And she's angry with herself for not being able to protect her."

It was Melissa's turn to blink. "Wait, but I thought you three met _after_ she was... well, you know."

"Say it." He hated when people were too squeamish to spell out what they'd done. "Don't start with that you-know'ing business."

With a roll of her eyes, Melissa rephrased, "I thought you only met after she was shot."

"We did. But that doesn't stop Sunny from feeling guilty about it, and she's projecting that feeling onto you." He placed the last bit of wood against the tower.

"But she couldn't have protected her if she didn't even know her, right?"

Ringo sighed. This woman was a woman, right? Surely he didn't have to explain this to her? But he did it anyway. "Rationally, yes, she knows that. Emotionally, though, well, emotions aren't rational, so there's no point trying to reason them away. Got a lighter handy?"

She sighed back at him, unsatisfied with the answer. "Back pocket."

"I'm not reaching in there." He had absolutely no desire to stick his hand in the woman's ass pocket. Nothing against her rear end, but he simply wasn't an ass-touching kind of man. Besides, he had a perfect-gentleman reputation to uphold.

"Geez, you always so prissy?" she said sharply. "My butt won't bite."

It clearly was a perfectly normal thing to her, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be really, it was just grabbing something out of her pocket, but still, no matter how much of a personal rejection the woman would take it as, he had to decline. "All the same."

She feebly kicked some sand away. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any more humiliating."

"Don't be so dramatic, I'm just not a groping kind of man."

"Then I suppose you'll have to undo these." She held up the cuffs yet again.

Did she think he was an idiot? If she was hoping he'd trust her, then cheap, transparent ploys like these were the perfect way to achieve the exact opposite. And the fact that she even thought for a second that he'd fall for it felt like a personal insult. "Don't take me for a fool, Melissa. That is something I _really_ don't take kindly to."

She shrugged, apparently achieving some kind of small-minded pleasure in getting him riled up. "Then we both feel insulted, I suppose."

He really didn't have the time not the patience for this idiocy. With an angry grunt, he marched to Melissa, took her by the shoulder and turning her around. It felt... dirty, as if he was doing something completely immoral, but despite the uncomfortable feeling, he dug his hand into the back pocket of her leather pants and pulled out her zippo lighter. The metal still held the warmth of her skin, a sensation which would probably be pleasant or arousing to some, but for Ringo it felt... cheap. Dirty. He supposed he was just a gentlemanly kind of person. Nothing wrong with that.

"There. Your hand didn't fall off, did it?" she asked angrily, turning around again.

She just couldn't leave it alone, could she? She wouldn't stop until she'd gotten an apology for what she perceived as his disgust at her body. It had nothing to do with that, if anything, she looked toned and well-shaped, if highly unsexified by the afore-mentioned turn-offs. Well, they were turn-offs to him, personally. Other men would probably start drooling as soon as they noticed the gang tats and tough-girl haircut, but for Ringo, that was just repelling. But this woman would stay angry until he'd admitted that she wasn't revolting. "It's got nothing to do with that," he said curtly. "I'm sure you have a nice body and all that. I just don't like touching people in... well, private places, except when it's my lover."

"Sheesh. You _are_ prissy."

"That's a matter of opinion. You call me prissy, others might call you slutty for letting a man get his hand into your back pocket."

She rolled her eyes and flung herself down on her ass, as she'd done so often now. "What a bloody pointless conversation."

A shot sounded in the distance, followed by a roar of victory, in a voice that Ringo recognised all too well. Despite Melissa's abrasive behaviour, he had to smile when he heard En shout something triumphant in reply. "Looks like we won't be eating out of a packet tonight."

"Yay."

Such enthusiasm. This was probably the moment when she told him she was a vegetarian. But no, no confessions of poor taste in food came. Ringo flicked the lighter on and set fire to the old newspaper he'd built the wooden tower around. The paper caught flame, the fire greedily licking upwards, taking hold of the wood and setting its fangs in it. It was going to be a nice little campfire to grill the girls' prize by. In the distance, he saw them coming over a hill, Cheyenne playfully dancing circles around them. They weren't in earshot yet, so it was a good time to offer some finishing words to the strange conversation they'd had. "Melissa, you don't have to take my advice, but I do suggest you swallow your pride for a bit and be patient with Sunny, even if she overreacts or makes you feel hated or gives you the feeling that you can't do anything right. I told you what I think she's feeling now, so have some understanding and let her get those feelings out of her system, okay?"

Melissa hugged her legs and stared into the fire. "No guarantees, but I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask. If all goes well, who knows, we might be able to finish our travels as friends rather than as captor and captive."

"You'll forgive me for not really being too eager to make our little relationship work," she only replied.

"It would be the most pleasant and most constructive way to deal with it. For you too."

Her eyes still fixed Ringo's fire, she said quietly, "We'll see."

As the captured Khan sat staring into the camp fire, the flames put an eerie red glow in her face and her eyes.


	14. Sign of Him

**FOURTEEN**

**I-15, caravan ground**

**June 31st**

**06:28**

It had been a pretty awful night. Those caravans were completely wasted down to the iron, and all the insulating material had been eaten or rotted away, so the bare metal offered almost no protection against the cold. To make it worse, a nearby colony of mantises had been chirping and cricketing all night long, and it was _loud_.

She'd shared the caravan with Sunny and Cheyenne, after dividing the bunny rabbit in five, and each enjoying their little scrap of meat. Even Melissa had been hungrier than she was proud, and accepted her piece, scoffing it down with her bare hands. At Sunny's insistence, Ringo had manacled her to a caravan door handle during the night. She'd protested about it, but honestly, En was confident that they couldn't be blamed for wanting to sleep in at least some degree of security. And hey, at least she'd had a room all to herself, even if it was uncomfortable sleeping, shackled to a door handle. Ringo, being the sole man of the group (he must be feeling like quite the harem owner), had a caravan to his own as well, and from the looks of him as he was making coffee, he hadn't exactly slept like a rose either. Sunny was still fast asleep (of course), and not a peep had come from Melissa's caravan yet, so En assumed she was still in dream land as well. Well, that, or she'd found a way to unshackle herself and ran off. Lazily, Cheyenne trotted over to where En had sat down, facing the old burned-out camp fire, and lay down next to her, closing her eyes again.

"Morning," Ringo grunted as he stirred the coffee, slowly heating on his little camping stove. He'd found a bag of ground coffee in Primm, to everyone's cheer. "Sleep well?"

"I slept like octogenarians make love."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Very badly, with a lot of stifled curses and with much soreness afterwards."

"Ah. Like that."

The coffee started to produce a nice bitter aroma, and just smelling it roused En from the drowsiness she still felt, even if it was just a little. "How's our guest doing?"

Ringo nodded at the caravan he'd manacled Melissa to. "Alright, I suppose. Fussed a bit over getting shackled to the door, but haven't heard a sound from her yet. Must have been more tired than she thought."

"Mm."

"Say," Ringo began, sitting down on his backside, the coffee pot and stove between his legs. "Have you had a chance to speak to Sunny regarding, well... her attitude towards our unwilling guest?"

"A bit, yeah." It was too early for such a conversation, dammit.

Ringo didn't seem to think so. He threw a furtive look at the caravan Sunny slept in, and quietly said, "I'm a bit worried."

Even though she didn't want to talk about such a heavy subject so early, En asked, "What about?"

"Sunny."

"… yes?"

He sighed, obviously not at ease with discussing the subject, but still considering it necessary. "Don't you think she's… well, taking all this to heart just a little bit too much?"

"What, that I got my brains shot out?" En said mischievously, knowing full well what he meant.

"I know, it's no small thing, but it happened to _you_, not her. She's taking it all a bit too personally. You were the one who were shot, and you're having a much easier time putting it into perspective and forgiving the woman who helped."

"I haven't forgiven her," En said promptly, wanting to get that absolutely clear.

Ringo spread his hands. "Of course. My mistake. But my point still stands. You're dealing with this far better than she is."

En sat down wearily next to Ringo. "I know what you mean. It's just because she's so taken with me. Of course she is. Just look at how awesome I am."

Ringo chuckled, but wasn't swayed. "Still, she's beating herself up over what happened to you, and it would help if you had a talk with her. Just to say you appreciate her concern and indignation, but that you're coming to terms with it, and that she should too. For her own peace of mind."

"Cool. I'll work my charm on her."

He grinned. "You do that. I'm sure your charms will serve you well."

A New Zealand-accented shout of "God damn pikin' handcuffs!" came from Melissa's caravan.

"Our princess is awake," Ringo said flatly, stirring his coffee and showing absolutely no intention of getting up.

En showed just as little. "So I hear."

"Oy!" another holler came. "You people mind gettin' off your arses and unchainin' me here?"

"So much shouting", Ringo said wearily, shaking his head in disapproval, "so early in the morning."

"I know, right?" En was enjoying Melissa's anger, in spite of herself. Let her rage for a while.

"Bloody wankers!" There was a loud rattling of metal on metal as Melissa tugged furiously at the handcuffs and the door handle they were attached to.

Ringo chuckled at the frustrated shout, then took the handcuffs' keys out of his chest pocket and tossed them to En. "Better release her before she drags herself here, caravan and all."

"Yeah. She's angry enough to make us wear that caravan as a hat."

En got up and trudged to the caravan, calling out, "Easy there, loudmouth. I'm coming."

Ringo called after her, "To unchine your poikin hencaffs."

That got a giggle out of En as she climbed into the caravan and was met with an angrily glaring Melissa, still dressed in the same dirty leather outfit she'd worn yesterday. Undressing with one hand manacled to a door wasn't easy, En figured.

"Bout time."

"Sleep well?"

"As if you care."

"Good point," En shot back. "In fact I was hoping you'd have had some diarrhoea or a really bad case of reflux during the night, or dare I say it, a brain embolism, because I'm nasty like that."

"What," she snapped. "You think this is all a big joke, kid?"

She shrugged, kneeling down next to Melissa. She smelled of sweat and dirt. "Better to laugh over it than cry over it." It was the one-liner she always used when people reproached her of being too light-hearted about serious things. And dammit if it wasn't true. Jokes might be inappropriate at times, but at least they didn't make people sit down and give up.

She looked sincere when she said, "I feel awful for what happened to you. It's no laughin' matter for me." It only showed very faintly, but there was genuine regret in her eyes.

The woman might be abrasive and hostile, but things like that made En more and more convinced she had her heart in the right place. "You're right, it's no larfin' meddah, but you're paying for what you've done by helping us, and that's all I ask."

"You'll forgive me for not considering it as simple as that."

"You're free to consider it as complicated as you want to." She took the key to the handcuffs out of her pocket and set it against the cuffs' lock. "No funny business, 'kay?"

"I'm not a bloody sneaky rat," Melissa snapped. "I'm a Great Khan with the scars to prove it, and we still respect a word of honour."

"Then I suppose I'll respect your wurd of 'onnah too," En conceded. "I'm just saying, if you feel the temp – "

Ah, shit. Fireflies zipped across her vision. Great, what god damn timing! She fell backwards on her butt, clapping a hand across her forehead as pounding pain banged through it with every heartbeat. She heard herself let out an inarticulate whine, and her body fell against the side of the caravan with a metallic bang that sounded far away. Her stomach hitched, only once, and then was still again. Her ears followed suit, sending a short, sharp shriek through her head, then returning to silence. Despite her numbness, she felt a hand gently close around her wrist, and as the seizure passed, her doubling vision focused again, on Melissa's concerned face. "Geez, is it that bad?"

"It's… it's alright," she slurred, even though she was feeling anything but.

There were no tears standing in her eyes, but Melissa looked just about ready to cry. "I'm so sorry, En." Then she realized how she looked, and her face reverted to her traditional hard-ass Great Khan look, though some visible concern still remained. "But um, keep that to yourself, alright?"

"Yeah, well, sorry… doesn't change anything." Her head still pounded. "Help me… find that Benny bastard and… your debt's settled."

"That's what I'm doing."

"Good." The beating in her head lessened, and her coordination and strength came back. "Now, let's get you unshackled."

True enough, Melissa didn't try anything when En slid the small key in the lock and turned it. As her hand was freed, she even voluntarily held out her other hand with it, so En could cuff her hands back together. She winced as she did it.

"You hurt?"

Her eyes flashed, "I'm alright."

"Sure?"

"_Yes_."

She was obviously lying, flinching every time she moved her shoulder, which was probably aching tremendously from staying in the same position the entire night. But En could have guessed the GREAT KHAN would be too proud to admit she was in pain. Well, if she wanted to bear her agony in silence, then that was her business.

"Coffee, mighty amazon of the Great Khans?" Ringo asked without turning his head when En and Melissa emerged from the caravan.

Melissa bore the sarcasm in silence. "Yeah, I could use some."

En didn't sit down, going instead straight to Sunny's caravan. Lazy-pants had slept long enough. She ducked under the caravan doorway and homed in on the mop of black hair buried in a sleeping bag. "Sunny, you awake?"

A groan was her only answer.

"Better get up, Sunny. That caravan's gonna be an oven in half an hour. I'm sure grilled Sunny is tasty, but it'll mess up your complexion."

"I dreamed", Sunny muttered hoarsely, her eyes still closed, "that we ran into one of the folks that shot you, some rude battleaxe with a god-awful haircut, and we took her along."

"And_ I_ dreamed," En countered, "that you were just as rude to her as she was to you."

Sunny chuckled, the sound muffled by her sleeping bag. "I'm still sleepy."

"So am I, but we need to get going."

An irritated groan was her only response.

"I know, Sunny. Look at it this way, in sixteen hours, you can crawl back into your sleeping bag. Think of how good that'll feel."

"I don't want to feel good in sixteen hours, I want to feel good _now_," Sunny whined overdramatically.

With her tongue mischievously out the side of her mouth, En gently kicked the lump in the sleeping bag that was most likely to be Sunny's backside. Sunny let out another nasal whine and swatted lazily at En with one hand. "Come on Sunnyyyy!"

"Gah!" Sunny exclaimed, sitting upright. Her hair stood up in corkscrews. "Annoying brat."

"There's coffee," En singsonged as she headed back to the burned-out remains of the campfire.

Next destination was Nipton, past Primm and down the I-15 to the Southeast. Benny had passed through the little town, but Melissa didn't know where he'd gone from there, or she knew and wasn't telling. The atmosphere at breakfast had been tense, with Sunny doing very little effort to thaw towards Melissa, and the captured Khan doing even less. At least Ringo had broken the ice somewhat with a funny story about his late caravan mates, though he'd grown a bit wistful at the end of it. They'd broken up camp right after, walking South to Primm and making good time. After a stop for lunch in Primm, Johnson Nash had told them someone had brought a fission battery to replace the old eyebot's melted one, installed it and taken the little rust bucket with him. So much the better.

After thanking Johnson and Ruby Nash for the exquisite lunch of carrot mash and boiled beef, the journey had gone on, following the I-15 as it went east, towards Nipton. The town lay on a hill, overlooking the Wasteland around it. It had all the appearance of a normal town, except for the smoke rising from the rooftops, and wait, were those…?

"Why are there crosses at the edge of town?" En asked, mystified. Surely this wasn't some religious commune?

"Those aren't just crosses," Ringo answered, looking very worried. "That is to say, they're not there for religious reasons."

Sunny squinted at the town in the distance, probably unable to make out anything except vague shapes. Poor silly Sunny.

"Looks like the Legion's stopped for snacks and crucifixions," Melissa said flatly.

Wait, what? "Uh, crucifixions? Nailing people to crosses like in the old Roman Empire days?"

"The same," Ringo said dourly. "They're not called Caesar's Legion for nothing. They rummaged through the Roman Empire's history, took out the bits that they liked, slavery and crucifixion first and foremost, and built themselves an army."

"And not just a little one. The entire lands East, all the way to the Colorado, are Legion territory these days," Sunny explained. "They're a barbaric bunch of homos, but they're incredibly disciplined and efficient."

"NCR's broken its teeth on them on more than one occasion," Ringo said with a nod. "And while the NCR's troops are spread thin and low on supplies, the Legion seems to have an inexhaustible amount of men and resources. With more and more people joining their ranks every day. Like flies buzzing around the biggest pile of excrement."

"They just want to be on the winning team," Melissa said, her voice still emotionless.

Sunny's eyes narrowed at that. "What about you? You want to be on the 'winning team' as well?"

Melissa calmly shot back, "I don't think my political persuasion is relevant." Holding up the cuffs, she reminded them, "I'm just a prisoner, right? Trash you're hauling out of necessity."

"What could possibly possess you, though," Ringo asked, out of interest and to shift the focus of the conversation away from Sunny and Melissa's enmity, "to make excuses for people who join the Legion while their own brothers are enslaved and their sisters made into whores?"

Melissa shrugged at that. "Survival of the fittest."

"Sure it was a good idea not to shoot her?" Sunny asked En.

"Yes," En replied. "She's talking stupid, but we can't go around shooting people for being stupid."

"That's not what the Legion thinks," Ringo chuckled. "So in case our friend here thinks she can side with them, that they'll let her join instead of using and discarding her, then the problem of her stupidity would be self-correcting."

"Keep sayin' that to yourselves," Melissa said fiercely. "You'd speak differently if I wasn't in cuffs and outnumbered. But that's what you people are good at, right? Bandin' together out of weakness and forcin' your will on strong people by majority rule." She almost spat out the two last words.

"We're not travelling together out of weakness," En explained patiently. "We're a group because we care about each other."

"Damn right," Sunny agreed ostentatiously.

Whenever she spoke directly to En, Melissa's attitude became much less hostile. "Look, I've grown up relyin' only on myself. I'll pay my debt to you, but once that's done, there's nothing that binds me to you. So don't try and change me or educate me or whatever. You're entitled to my help finding Benny, but nothing more."

En shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose, but I'd be happy if we could at least make the time we have together somewhat pleasant, so we might part with a positive feeling."

"You can't expect us to care about you if you're being purposefully antagonistic," Ringo added.

Melissa's attitude instantly went back to belligerent when she was no longer talking to En. "Yeah, well, I don't need your carin' bullshit. Bunch of flowery wankery's what it is."

"Funny how that flowery wankery's saved your damn life," Sunny pointed out. "Or would you rather we invoked the right of the strongest, like the Legion does, when you were on your knees and at En's mercy?"

Melissa snorted. "Your friend made the decision not to pull the trigger. And don't get me started on the right of the strongest. God damn murdering NCR know all about killing defenceless people."

"You know, Melissa," Ringo snapped, "I'm doing my best here to try and make this whole thing as pleasant as possible, for us _and_ for you, but if you're going to break your own windows by antagonizing us, then I'm done wasting effort on you."

Standing proudly upright, Melissa declared, "I'm sayin' what I think, and I don't care if you agree or not. You all hate me 'cause I shot your friend here, which I'm genuinely sorry for, but to you two, I don't have anything to apologize for. So stick this friendly pretence up your arse."

"I'm done with this," Ringo grunted. "Let's head into Nipton. Maybe this underdeveloped bogan here will change her mind once she sees what kind of things the Legion does to good people."

En gave it one last try. "Melissa, I'm asking you, not because you owe me, but as one person to another, to just do a little effort. We could have beaten or tortured information out of you, but we're not that kind of people. Respect that and at least _try_ to ease up on the hostility."

Her only answer was a closed-jaw, "Speak to you alone for a bit?"

Sunny sighed and rolled her eyes, and Ringo shook his head in disapproval, but regardless, En said, "Yeah, sure." And as Sunny opened her mouth to speak, En knew what she was going to say, so she called, "Cheyenne, here girl!"

Looking peeved at not being able to tell En out loud it wasn't safe to spend time alone with Melissa, Sunny let out a grunting sigh and told Cheyenne to, "Go on, girl, it's fine."

Cheyenne trotted over to En and kept close to her as she and Melissa walked a distance away from the rest.

"Right. What is it?"

Melissa stole a furtive glance towards Sunny and Ringo, then said, "I just want to be clear on something."

En motioned for her to continue.

"I'm paying off what I owe to you, but your two mates don't have anything to do with that. So cuffs or not, guns or not, if they keep bossin' me around, I'll – "

"You'll what?"

Melissa's jaw worked, but she couldn't find a suitable reply, so she instead said, "I'm hoping you'll make it clear to them that my business is with you, and not with them."

Even though her way of telling it was completely wrong, and even though the demand was rather ludicrous to make when you were in cuffs, and should be happy to be alive, En figured it might not be a bad idea to throw her a bone. After all, they'd all benefit from better relations with each other. "Alright. I'll talk to them, but it can't be a one-sided favour. In exchange I want you t – "

"Yeah, alright," she admitted with a roll of her eyes. "I'll do some work too. But only because you're askin' me. Just so we're clear."

En nodded. "Cool."

"And tell that uptight cobber of yours that I don't want to hear the word bogan anymore. Not even once."

"Uh… okay?"

"Right."

She just had to ask now. "Okay, I'll bite. What's a bogan?"

Melissa looked up, gave a grunting sigh, and stuck to, "Nothing flatterin'."

Whatever, it didn't matter what it meant. "Yeah, okay, fine."

"Good."

Sunny and Ringo stood waiting, looking impatient and annoyed. "You done?" Sunny asked without much friendliness.

Despite the tone of the question, En nodded, "Yeah. Let's go see what happened to Nipton."

"We should be cautious though, the Legion might still have men there," Ringo cautioned, eager to put the whole uncomfortable situation behind them.

"They dangerous?" En asked.

"Mmmnot unless you provoke them, usually. But if they're on a slave run, they might just decide to add us to their loot. You never know with those halfwits."

"Don't think it's a slave grab," Melissa said, her tone surprisingly (and thankfully) neutral. "Wouldn't crucify people if it was. I'm guessin' a punitive expedition or something."

Ringo draped his jacket over Melissa's wrists again. "Still, it's best to be careful."

With a nod, Melissa agreed, "Always." Well, she was doing _some_ effort.

They slowly approached the town, but they saw no movement apart from the black smoke that lazily swirled up to the sky. As they went up the slope, they could make out the forms of bodies hanging from the crucifixes. En's stomach clenched when she saw it. Dear God, these people actually performed _crucifixions_.

Ringo and Sunny simultaneously raised their weapons as a man came running toward them, looking hysterical, flailing his arms and whooping in what sounded like joy.

"Hold it right there," Sunny commanded, backed up by a threatening growl from Cheyenne.

The man briefly checked, then went on laughing shrilly.

"What are you so happy about?" Ringo called to him.

"I won the lottery! I won the fucking lottery, man!"

"What'd you win?" En asked. "A kitchen appliance set? A lifetime supply of light bulbs? A battery recharge pack on your sexbot?"

The man shrieked with laughter at that. "No way, man. You have no idea!" Then he took off, bolting to the side of the road and running off into the Wasteland. A small paper ticket flitted down to the ground as he ran.

"I think", Sunny said sourly, "I know what kind of lottery this was."

Melissa merely shook her head and said, "This is some shonky business right here."

En didn't know what that silly word meant, but she could guess. And she agreed.

Welcome to Nipton, the sign at the entrance to the town enthusiastically displayed. Yeah, welcome indeed. En was pretty certain that these people wouldn't have welcomed the band of murdering slave drivers that had granted themselves access to their little settlement. Nipton itself lay half-destroyed, no longer than a street long. Houses had been rebuilt on either side of the street, but most had been torched, the wood blackened and smouldering. At the end of the street stood a large mansion, probably city hall. And on both sides of the street stood crucifixes, with men and women tied or nailed to them. Most hung motionless, but here and there, a head still lolled slowly as the crucified person moaned, sounding as good as dead.

"My God," En breathed.

"I don't think God was looking when this happened," Ringo muttered.

"Well, who knows, they might just spontaneously break into song about looking at the bright side of life," En joked wryly, earning her a glare from Sunny and Ringo. "Not appropriate?"

"Not at all. Time and place for jokes, miss En? Remember that conversation?"

"State, nunc!"

What the Hell? Statay noonk? What the Hell kind of language was that? Reflexively, En and her companions stopped and whipped their heads toward the source of the voice. She heard Sunny mutter, "Ah, shit," when they saw the men standing between two houses, their guns trained on them. They must be part of Caesar's Legion, seven men dressed like ancient Roman legionaries, though instead of using old blacksmithed armour, they wore an ensemble of salvaged modern armour plates, mix-and-matched to form legionary armour. Ringo and Sunny hadn't been kidding when they'd said they were emulating the old Roman Empire. And shit, they had guns aimed at their heads and would kill them all before even one of them had the chance to raise a weapon. En's stomach shrunk to a painful ball when she realized she didn't want to end up like those poor saps, crucified and suffering a slow, horrible death.

One of the legionaries, a man whose helmet was covered with what looked like the skin of a cougar with the lower jaw removed, so that above his face was the opened maw of a raging predator, stepped forward imperiously, sizing up the man and women who'd entered the village.

En and the others stood still, waiting for the man to speak. He cocked his head at the jacket covering Melissa's cuffs, stood for a moment, and then pulled it off. His face became slightly less disdainful. "Servam quoque habetis? Non requiretis abscondere." Then nodding at her hair with a sneer, he added, "Belli crines, lupa."

"We are… not fluent in Cicero's language, centurion," Ringo told him, sounding only slightly insecure. "But yes, she's ours... that's what you asked, right?" Melissa set her jaw at the indignation, but was thankfully silent.

The man with the cougar-or-whatever-skinned helmet harrumphed. "Uncivilized peasants everywhere. Then I suppose English will have to do. And I will pretend you did not misaddress me as centurion, but only once." Coyote, not cougar. It was a coyote head.

"We're not here to make tr – " Sunny began, but she was promptly interrupted by an enraged, "Orem claude, scortum!" The last word in particular was snarled in a particularly disgusted way. En guessed she knew what it meant. Then he turned to Ringo and said, "What is your business here?"

Thankfully, Ringo had the sense not to look to En for confirmation, and simply said, "We're looking for a murderer. A coward who shoots unarmed and bound people."

"I see." The legionary's sharp, thin face did not betray even the slightest hint of emotion.

"So we're uh… just passing through, and have no wish to interfere with your business here."

En didn't really agree with Ringo on that one, but she supposed it was the wisest thing to say. She guessed Ringo, like her, wanted nothing more than to nail these dirty murdering bastards to their own crosses, but common sense had to win out over honesty in this particular instance. Live to settle it another day and that.

"Do you know what has happened here, and why?" the man asked, projecting his authority with what looked like no effort at all.

Ringo cleared his throat. "I'm guessing, a punitive expedition?"

"Ita est. The people of this town were punished. And I shall tell you why, so that you understand why it was necessary."

"By all means."

He put his hands behind his back and slowly walked towards Sunny. "The people of this apertio culi of a town are cowards, liars and vermin. First, the NCR approaches them with honey-flavoured venomous lies, preaching their nonsense of collaboration, solidarity, and protecting the weak." His cold blue eyes fixed on Sunny for a moment, then he walked back to Ringo. "The stulti of this town of course buy into the NCR's merda asini, and agree to betray those pathetic escaped convicts that they've been doing dirty dealings with."

Passing Ringo and walking to En, he went on. "But then, when they realize that they can gain even more, they hatch a secret, even more foolish and cowardly plan: to let both the Powder Gang and the NCR converge upon the town and then turn them over to us."

"So they sold them both out?" Ringo had to ask the questions, because they knew this man would not tolerate a second word out of a woman's mouth.

"They did. We had very little trouble killing or capturing both the NCR and Powder Ganger fools. Those we did not kill, were given a place on our crosses." He pointed at the side of the street, and indeed, three powder gangers and an NCR soldier were crucified, the Powder Gangers with nails, the trooper with rope. All four looked to be dead, or as good as. En hoped Ringo would be able to contain his anger.

"So they did you a favour? Then why crucify the townspeople?" Ringo asked, doing a good job of concealing his rage at the crucifixion of the NCR soldier.

He turned away from En and answered, as if he was explaining something completely logical to a dim-witted child. "What fate then, would you see fitting for these traitors? These snitches, selling out the people they'd sold other people out to? The NCR is a band of weak fools, but betrayal is betrayal, and it must be punished accordingly." Sounding proud of what he'd done, he then announced, "So we had them play the lottery."

"They who win the lottery get to keep their lives, correct?"

The legionary held up a finger, looking pleased with Ringo's understanding. "Indeed, though it was slightly more complex than this. We gathered all the scum on the street, and let them draw tickets. They knew what the lottery entailed. They knew there were only two or three tickets which spared their lives. They knew the majority of tickets meant a swift but certain death, and that a small amount meant a slow, deservedly agonizing death by crucifixion."

"I see. Forgive me, but punishing a whole town for the greed of some… isn't that a little excessive?"

_For fuck's sake Ringo agree with the man don't piss him off or we'll end up on those crosses and die after the crows pluck out our eyes and we're too weak to defend ourselves_

En let out a quiet sigh of relief when the legionary again held up a finger, with a self-satisfied smugness on his waspish face. "You would think so, would you not? But that was the purpose of the lottery. They all stood, holding their tickets, staring at them, willing them to be one of the winning ones. And as we took their mothers, their fathers, their sisters, their brothers, their children and their lovers, as those we took for shooting or crucifixion begged and wailed and clung to their arms, their eyes never came off their tickets. To them, that ticket was all that mattered." He pointed at a mound of bodies, all shot in the head at close range. "And those we took did not resist. They obeyed the rules of the lottery like sheep."

"So they just… let you kill their loved ones?"

The smugness on the legionary's face widened to a proud, wicked grin. "They did. And with every losing ticket, they proved a little bit more that they deserved them. Even they who won, those few who were granted mercy far beyond that which they had right to, squealed in joy, so relieved that they were to be allowed to live, that they did not care for those dear to them, only for that scrap of paper they held." He paused for effect. "Do you, all of you, now realize why this was necessary? They did not fight for their loved ones. They did not even fight for themselves. We were nine, and they were forty. But instead of fighting, they chose to cling to that tiny, meagre chance that their lives would be spared. Those paper scraps made them docile."

"I understand."

En hoped he was just saying that.

"Now, as for you," the legionary continued at a more businesslike tone. "Normally we would simply round you up and make slaves out of you, but I have a better, more long-term use for you." He fell silent, his eyes fixed on Ringo's.

"… yes?"

"As those who won the lottery, you people will remember what happened here, and why. And you will spread the word of what has happened, wherever you go. Every NCR outpost, every town, every vault, every trail camp. You will carry this lesson into the world, and the world will know that Caesar's Legion is inevitably, unstoppably planting its flag into the soil of the entire Mojave. And with this flag will come the eradication of all that is weak, treacherous, cowardly and corrupt."

"You want us to… tell people what you did here?"

"That is what I said. Or do your ears require unplugging?"

"Uh… no, no," Ringo hastily said.

"You are entirely entitled to attempt to overpower us, and I would, in a way, respect this course of action," the legionary said, "but be assured that if you do, the cost of your failure would be", he pointed at the crucifixes, "very severe indeed."

"We have not come here to commit suicide, servant of Caesar."

He nodded. "A wise decision. You are more useful to me alive."

"I don't understand what your purpose is, however," Ringo carefully attempted.

"This is what I do in Caesar's Legion," the man proudly proclaimed. "I am a frumentarius, those who have the honour of announcing Caesar's coming. To instill fear in the hearts of the weak and the deceitful. My name, and remember it well, is Vulpes Inculta."

Ringo's eyes narrowed as he searched for the meaning of the words. Apparently he knew some Latin. "Vulpes… that's a wasp, right?"

Not in anger, but with a weary disdain, the legionary grunted, "Wasp is vespula, you primitive."

"Ah."

Not giving En's group another glance, he turned sharply on his heels. "Legionarii! Exterminandi sunt!"

The men accompanying the Woolpes Inkoolta-character promptly lifted their weapons, and without a word, without a glance at each other, they fired simultaneously, the shots ringing out as one, each round striking one of the crucified men and women in the chest. Three legionaries fired a second shot, terminating the three remaining townspeople. It was all done with cold, ruthless, almost businesslike efficiency. It was something En couldn't comprehend, how you could shut off your feelings like that, the pumping of icy blood being the only remaining function of a cold, cold heart.

The frumentarius, as he'd called himself, turned back to En's group, and with a thin, cruel smile said, "In case you were feeling compassionate for these vermes immundi." And back to his men, "Legionarii, imus."

One of the legionaries, with an assortment of frayed red plumes in his apparently converted motorcycle helmet, struck himself on the chest with his fist and confirmed, in an overly loud and pompous voice, "Sic imperas, frumentarius. Caesari fidelis." He shouted it just a little too loudly for comfort.

"Frumentarie," the wasp-faced man corrected, with a weary voice. "Vocativum noscis decurio?" The squad leader turned beet-red with shame and began making fumbling apologies.

"That's right," Ringo muttered to En, quietly so the Legion bastards couldn't hear, "Because if you're going to butcher innocents, at least don't do it with incorrect Latin declension."

"Ite," the man with the coyote-hide helmet commanded to his decurion, shooing them away, visibly irritated with the apparent ineptitude of his men. "Et velociter, caudices!"

Still flushed, the decurion replied, "Ita," and they marched off, perfectly into step, except two of them, helmeted and their faces covered with scarves and their eyes with dark sunglasses, who kept their weapons on En's little group until the majority of the squad was a safe distance away. Then they ran off, after their leaders.

En and the others stood in the burned remains of Nipton, quiet and unsure what to say, just following the two running legionaries with their eyes.

After a few moments of silence, Melissa finally pointed out, "The one on the left's got nice legs."


	15. Vagrancy

**FIFTEEN**

**Ruins of Nipton**

**June 31st**

**19:25**

"Okay, so," En said to Melissa. They stood in the remains of Nipton, most buildings reduced to smouldering rubble with a wall still standing here and there. Most of the houses had been wooden, so they'd burned easily, and apart from those few walls, the only things that remained standing were the crucifixes and the large structure that must have been the town hall or a building of similar importance. "Unless my friend Benny's hanging from a cross somewhere, it's clear that he's not here, yes?"

"Looks like it, yeah."

"So where is he?"

Melissa looked away and sighed. "He and Jessup went north. To Novac."

"What on Earth would they want in Novac?" Ringo asked. "It's just a few houses, nothing interesting there."

"That is information I'd like to keep to myself."

Sunny gave a grunting sigh. "Still being obstinate."

"Not obstinate," Melissa said calmly. "Just careful."

"What's Novac, Ringo?" En asked, to shift the topic of conversation.

He shrugged, "Like I said, just a few houses. An old motel. A brahmin ranch or two. Nothing spectacular."

"Huh. Why would they go there, Melissa? _I__'__m_ asking you this time. I know you have your reasons for staying quiet, but I'd…just really appreciate it if you answered."

Melissa was silent for a moment, then sighed, "Resupply. And meet with someone to get some information on whether or not the coast is clear."

"Someone, huh?" Sunny asked suspiciously.

With an icy look, Melissa merely said, "Yeah. Someone."

"Alright, let's just head to Novac and we'll see what's what when we get there," Ringo said.

With a nod, En agreed, "Kay-o. How far is it?"

"Won't be able to get there tonight, that's for sure," Sunny said, her eyes on the horizon, looking northeast. "It's quite a ways."

Melissa disinterestedly kicked a pebble. It skidded over the ground and struck the base of one of the crosses with a hollow _tock_.

"Let's move," Ringo said, shrugging his backpack on. "I'm sure you'll agree that staying here for the night is not exactly desirable."

En pointed at the crosses and the bodies hanging from them. "Shouldn't we, uh…?"

"Sweetie," Sunny explained patiently, "we don't have the time to start burying bodies."

"No we do not", Ringo agreed, "but we can do something else." He marched over to an old, rusted wreck of an SUV. The discarded tools lying beside it meant someone had been working on it recently – and refuelled it, judging from the orange jerrycan standing next to the car's fuel valve. Ringo picked up the jerrycan, unscrewed the lid, sniffed it and nodded. "Gasoline. Good." Then he went over to the crucifixes and drenched the base of every one with gasoline, even those that had dead Powder Gangers nailed to them. Before he did the one of the NCR trooper, however, he motioned for En to come over.

"Mm?"

Making a cradle with his hands, Ringo said, "Come on, I need to boost you up."

That wasn't very reassuring. "Why? Want me to give one of the NCR's finest a peck goodnight on the cheek?"

"Time and a place for jokes, miss En," Ringo said impatiently. "Now come here, I need you to break off this trooper's dog tags."

What a relief. "Oh, right. Um, sure, I guess."

"Why would you return the dog tags of a fucking murderer?" Melissa suddenly asked, in a completely casual voice.

"Shut your face, _bogan_!" Ringo shouted abruptly. It was the first time En or Sunny had seen him lose his temper. "I can tolerate a lot from you because you're obviously stupid and misguided by the chest-beating of your precious Great Khan rabble, but if you spit on a fallen trooper's remembrance one more time, not _even __En __will __be __able __to __save __you_!"

"Come on!" Melissa threatened, holding out her fists, still cuffed. "I'll beat the shit out of you even with my hands tied!"

En's mouth had suddenly gone completely dry. Shit, what was she supposed to do now? They'd all be expecting her to step in, but fact was, they needed Melissa, as rotten as she acted, they needed her. And she was the only one Melissa acted even a bit helpfully to. If she intervened… Shit, she wasn't good at this, the split-second decision making, the up-close frantic action. What was she supposed –

"You'll be dead before you reach him," Sunny said calmly, her gun pointed at Melissa's forehead. "Now be quiet. Or give me a reason, either is fine." Cheyenne echoed her threat with a low growl.

"Oh, Christ!" Melissa swore, her fist making a wild swing through the air as she let out her frustration. "Fuckin' _Siamese __twins_, you two!"

En's head began to pulse in pain, growing worse with every heartbeat. She opened her mouth but found no breath.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Sunny warned. "Be quiet or I'm shutting you up for good. And not even En will be able to save you." She deliberately repeated Ringo's words. Ringo, who stood under the dead NCR trooper's cross, his hands balled into fists. En's vision began to blur and a ringing slowly swelled in her ears.

"You don't scare me, beaner girl!" Melissa raged on. "Go on, shoot me like the coward you are. Think I'm afraid of dyin'? Think that's why I've tagged along like a fuckin' chained dog?"

En's vision became a smear of colours and her body was no longer under her control. She slowly felt her knees go weak and heard her breath come out in wheezing gasps.

"I don't care why you're with us," En heard Sunny say, millions of miles away, "but you've just gotten your last warning. Any more outbursts like this and I'm putting you down." A dizziness came over En as her ears continued to shriek and her head pounded with pain.

"Yeah, sure," Melissa scoffed, barely audible to En. "Shoot me if you dare, let's see what your 'little sister' thinks about that."

"Much as I care for En, that's not going to stop me," Sunny parried as En felt her head begin to loll on her neck. "And I resent that 'little sister' remark."

"Do it then, you spic! Come on, I bet you don't have the guts."

En became very briefly aware of a burning pain in her genitals before everything went black. The next instant she was lying on the ground, dizzy and with a still-pounding head.

"En! Sweetie, are you alright?"

The voice sounded like it came from outside the thick iron casserole En's head was stuck in. Which would also account for the complete blackness she found herself in, but then she remembered, with much effort, that her eyes were closed. She'd actually passed out this time. With tremendous force of will, she opened her eyes and saw a blurry Sunny hanging over her. "My God, En, they just keep getting worse." At the edge of her perception, she felt Cheyenne's tongue lick her hand.

"It's… it's alright," she croaked. Melissa stood upright, but she was also looking at En, her eyes worried. "Just stop… stop this fighting, please."

"She means you," Sunny bit at Melissa.

"As if I'm the only one makin' trouble," Melissa found it opportune to say to that.

"Just…both of you, calm down and... stop."

"Fine," Melissa said, unexpectedly. "I'll do the effort. But only for your sake."

"Errrghh, my head is killing me." Somehow complaining always made it a little bit better.

It looked like it took tremendous effort to say, but Sunny finally said, "Alright, we'll all let up, if that'll make you feel better."

"Thanks."

"Think you can get up?"

"Just gonna lie here for a second and whine."

Sunny nodded. "Melissa, go help…" but then she checked, and rephrased, "Could you go help Ringo with the cremations?"

She clearly didn't want to, but regardless, she curtly said, "Yeah. Sure," and turned away, leaving En's blurred field of view. She didn't resist remarking though, "Lot of help I'll be with cuffed wrists."

Still prone, En asked Sunny, "What was all that good for, Sunny?"

"You joking?"

"No. That never should have…" a re-intensified headache beat on the inside of her skull. "… escalated the way it did."

Sunny was silent and set her jaw, looking away at nothing in particular.

There was that other thing. Might as well tell Sunny now, not simply because she needed to talk to someone about it, but also because Sunny needed to know En was still primarily on her side. "I think I wet myself."

Sunny looked back at En and made a scrunched-up face. "Geez. Sorry."

But then En remembered what she'd done this morning and realized the damage might not be so bad, since she felt no wetness on the inside of her thighs. "I think my menstrual pad got the most of it."

Sunny chuckled, only slightly uncomfortably. "Well, thank God for periods, huh?"

"Yeah," En grunted, trying to sit up, but only managing it slowly due to the renewed pain in her head. "I'm not supposed to get them 'til tomorrow, but I stuck a pad in to be sure, in case I got them early. Wasn't that clairvoyant of me?"

"You must be protected by spirits from the beyond," Sunny agreed, holding out her hand. En took it and was pulled to her feet. With her sleeve, Sunny wiped En's chin. "Sorry hun, but I gotta clean you up before you're presentable."

En tolerated Sunny's sleeve wiping the runner of saliva off her chin, then said, "Let's leave this place, alright?" And as she said it, the first of Ringo's outdoor crematories blazed up, lighting the town which had turned into a dark, colourless ruin in the twilight. Melissa stood next to him, both silent. Silence was better than bickering, En supposed. After a few seconds of silent observation, Ringo strode to the other crucifixes and lit each of them in turn. Taking the dog tags Melissa had snatched off the dead trooper's chain (look at that, she'd actually let herself get boosted by Ringo and had actually taken the dog tags!), Ringo set fire to the last crucifix, the flames roaring upwards and engulfing the NCR trooper's body. Still silent, he marched to the mound of bodies, tore the dog tags off the dead NCR troopers, emptied the last of the gasoline jerrycans onto the bodies and set them ablaze. "En feeling better?"

Sunny nodded. "She's alright. Can we go?"

"Yeah. Smell will be awful in a few minutes."

Silently, Melissa walked off to the northeast, and the others followed, leaving Nipton behind as the last of the crucifixes burned and crashed down into the fires lit at their bases.

"Better find a place to sleep soon," Sunny thought out loud. Wouldn't want to get stuck on the road when we can't see two feet ahead of us."

"Miss En?"

En checked her Pip-boy. "Errmmm, as far as I can see, and if I've got our position right, there's a landmark near here. Don't know what it is though."

"Probably that old abandoned ranch up there," Melissa pointed out.

"What ranch?" Sunny asked. She still hadn't learned, had she?

"That ranch you could probably see if you weren't too vain to buy a pair of glasses, Sunny," En said playfully, throwing her arm over Sunny's shoulder, trying to ignore the headache as much as she could. The pad in her panties felt slightly damp, but it seemed to have absorbed all the nastiness. Probably hadn't been much. Still, she couldn't wait to stick a dry one in, because seriously. Soggy pads, no thanks.

"Yep, it's a ranch, alright," Ringo sounded off. "Good eyes, Melissa."

"Yeah. Thanks." It sounded anything but sincere, but insincere appreciation was better than sincere violence.

After En had quickly hid behind a ridge to change pads, which wasn't all that easy in the dark, they proceeded towards the ranch. The ranch in question was nestled against a hillside, an old wooden building with an even older wooden enclosure that had gaps in several places. It was even complete with one of those wooden little windpumps you saw in those old Pre-war cowboy movies. In the dim light that remained, they could see the sign above the door, with buffalo horns above it, and on it, written in flowing script, WOLFHORN RANCH. Alright, so the place had a name.

Ringo took out his weapon. "Might be squatters or animals inside."

No terrible beasts or depraved murderers awaited them though, and the ranch was nothing more than a dusty old building, long robbed of anything useful. An old toaster still stood on the kitchen counter, lonesome and dismal.

"It's… kinda dark in here," Sunny remarked.

"Good," En said. "Been dying to try this out." She pressed a button on her Pip-boy, and with a low, short hum, the display lit up in bright amber, illuminating the area, which was mostly empty apart from the old worthless guitar that lay in a corner. Oddly, a strange emblem was spray-painted on one of the walls, a large star, surrounded by smaller stars, and with three vertical stripes under it. In the same spray paint below the emblem was the message, YOU CAN GO HOME NOW C…" The rest was illegible. How strange.

"That's neat," Ringo had to say about the Pip-boy light. He'd gathered the weapons to keep them safe from Melissa-ification during the night and found a cupboard in the counter that he could lock with the padlock he had with him. The man really thought of everything.

"Cool huh?" The light wasn't as powerful as house lighting, but it provided an ambient light that at least made it possible to see with. "Not sure how much drain that puts on the batteries though. Might be best not to leave it on all night."

"Can't sleep with the light anyway," Sunny said with a shrug. "Alright, room dividing time."

"Shh," Melissa hissed. "Quiet. Someone out there."

Cheyenne seemed to agree, her ears going flat and a low growl coming from her belly.

The door opened before they'd had a chance to reach for their weapons, and four people strode in, gangbangers from the looks of them. Leather or denim jackets, tattoos, ridiculous haircuts. "Weary travellers, I assume?" the leader asked with a sneer. He had a shaved head and a vicious scar going from his brow, down between his eyes, over his nose and across his cheek. Like the others, he had a stylized snake tattooed on his forearm. "Welcome to our little shack."

"Uh…thanks," Sunny said.

"Of course, there is the little matter of a fee for the use of our facilities," the leader explained, stroking the goatee on his chin. "Shelter isn't free, surely you understand?"

Ringo shrugged. "If the price is reasonable, why not." En didn't agree, but on the other hand, if they wanted a sensible price, it was probably better to just pay them instead of murdering each other right there.

"Very reasonable," the thug assured. "A hundred, and we'll even sing you a little lullaby."

En scratched her head, embarrassed. "We're a bit short on cash right now, and a hundred seems a bit exorbitant for an old rickety shack and some badly sung sailor songs about busty lasses and licks o' the cat. Unless you do a fine barbershop quartet, I'd pay to see you do _that_!"

"There's always alternatives," a female gang member said. "Your backpacks look nice and full." En noticed that they didn't have guns, only knives and lead pipes.

"We're not parting with those," Ringo immediately refused. "If you're going to charge these ridiculous prices for a shack in the Wastes that isn't even yours, then we're done talking. We'll find another place to sleep." He made to pick up his backpack, but as En had expected, they didn't care much about consumer's rights.

"Ah-ah-ah," the leader stopped him. "I'm afraid we must insist that you enjoy our hospitality." He seemed strangely well-spoken for a hoodlum. "We charge per night, and you've already started yours. You can leave whenever you want to, but I fear we'll have to charge you for the full night, no matter what you do afterward."

"And since you have no money," another thug continued, "and don't want to part with your packs, we'll have to find another solution."

"Is this the part where you strike a tough-guy pose and threaten from between gritted teeth that you'll cut your price out of our skins?" En taunted.

"Nothing so dramatic," the leader replied. "How 'bout this. You get to use the shack for the night and we get to use," he pointed his chin at Melissa, "your prisoner for the night?"

Melissa snorted, "As if you could handle me, little man."

This didn't deter him in the least. "Attitude, lovely, I like that. Then again, I'd expected nothing less from a Great Khan. Even one in chains."

"You know," Sunny said, "I actually have to put my money on Melissa on this one."

"Me too," En agreed, just for the Hell of it.

"Here's the deal," Ringo said, dead serious unlike the girls. "We have around twenty. In the interest of avoiding the conflict, we'll pay you those, and you leave us alone. If this offer sounds unreasonable to you, you can always try to take our money and our packs from us." En's mouth had gone instantly dry. Taunting and goading was all nice, but fights with these gangbangers could go seriously wrong. This wasn't the fights you had in school, where you just slapped each other around and forgot about it the following day. These bastards wouldn't stop after a few punches. Still, if they had to fight, En was determined to not be afraid and not hesitate. She felt her fingers clench into fists, but a nagging voice in her head told her that being determined did not equal succeeding. Her heart picked up speed, beating hard in her chest and painfully in her head.

The gang leader sniffed. "Then we'll have to do just that." Shit.

Before anyone knew what happened, Melissa launched herself at the gang leader and grabbed the baseball bat he'd started to swing. Ringo reacted moments later, tackling the other thug, the one armed with the lead pipe. Cheyenne leapt up, her teeth going straight for the female's throat, and Sunny charged the last one. En remained, unsure of what to do.

Ringo had succeeded in bowling the other man over, but the gangbanger swung his lead pipe and hit him hard in the back of his head. Sunny, meanwhile, socked one of the gangers in the mouth, but he punched her right back, getting her in the jaw. Cheyenne had taken the woman to the ground, and snarling, her head whipped back and forth, blood spattering against the walls as the woman screamed and protected her face and throat with her hands, her knife clattering uselessly to the ground. Melissa also fared better than Ringo and Sunny, wresting the baseball bat from the gang leader's grasp and cracking him over the head with it with a decisive, fluid blow, as if she'd never done anything else in her life.

Shit, shit, who to help! En jerked the police baton out of her belt, and after a few failed whips, managed to clack the telescopic baton open. Sunny took another blow, staggering back, but she seemed capable of still defending herself. Ringo on the other hand, was completely disoriented by the blow of the lead pipe, sitting on his hands and knees briefly before falling over. The ganger lifted his pipe to break Ringo's skull, but En finally managed to launch herself forward and swing the baton. The thug saw it coming, and dodged her clumsy blow, and with both hands, swung the lead pipe into her belly. Even with her hard leather armour, the blow felt like it smashed her insides to liquid, and the wind knocked from her, she slumped to the ground. With a crazed grin, the thug lifted his weapon to pound her face flat, but before he could, Melissa crashed into him, throwing her arms over his head and grabbing him by the neck. En briefly whipped her head around to see Sunny getting to her feet as well, after Cheyenne had switched targets and come to her mistress' rescue.

En half-succeeded in regaining her footing, and saw Melissa and the gangbanger struggling, both Melissa's hands holding the thug's head in a vice, and her own head whipping back. As En looked on, Melissa roared and rammed her head into his, her face twisted with bloodlust, red with the blood of her opponent. Every head butt was accompanied by a hollow, awful-sounding _thwock,_ her forehead cracking into the man's nose again and again. Thwock, thwock, thwock. Melissa gave him one more for good measure with a snarl, then let him crumple to the ground, his face a flattened, bloody, unrecognizable ruin.

"Enough, enough," the gang leader slurred, bleeding heavily from his skull. He grabbed the screaming female, her arms badly mauled, with strips of tissue and tendon hanging loose through the shredded denim of her jacket, by the collar and dragged her to the door. Sunny jerked Cheyenne's leash, and she ceased her attack, letting her victim crawl to the door on his hands and knees, his arms in a less worse state than his fellow ganger, but still spattering blood as they moved. Melissa grabbed the remaining thug by the leather jacket, pulled his motionless body to the door and threw him after his fellows. "Pikin' piece of shit Vipers!" she shouted after them, then slammed the door closed. "Good fuckin' riddance. You guys alright?"

En was too hopped up on adrenaline and shaken with bewilderment to reply, but Sunny did. "Yeah, just a few teeth loose and bruises that'll probably make good party talk."

Ringo seemed to be getting his consciousness back, moaning, "Ah, god dammit, they got me good," a hand on the back of his head.

Her face still bloody, Melissa cocked her head and asked, "En?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm… I'm alright."

"Your belly? Nothin' feelin' like it's leakin'?"

"Nuh… not that I know of."

"Of course not," Sunny said cheerfully. "You survived a bullet to the head. Some worthless miscreant with a pipe won't even be able to scratch you."

Slowly, the adrenaline levels in En's blood lowered, and her belly began pulsing with pain. Bastard had got her good, like Ringo. She slowly lowered herself to the ground and sat down. Her insides felt squashed, but she didn't feel anything leaking or running, so she probably didn't have internal injuries. But shit, Melissa. Sure, she was a Great Khan, and they were supposed to be all big and bad, the muscles in her arms confirming that, but she'd been a true whirlwind of destruction, single-handedly determining the outcome of the fight. Because Cheyenne or no Cheyenne, En and Ringo would be lying with their brain pans smashed open if it hadn't been for Melissa. Maybe even Sunny too. Laboriously, En rose to her feet, went to stand in front of Melissa, and said, "You saved my delicious and fat-free bacon today. Thank you." Even though the manner in which she'd done it was more than a bit frightening.

Melissa stuck to a neutral, "That's alright."

"Yeah," Ringo agreed with En. "Mine too. Thanks, Melissa. I mean it."

Kneeling on front of Cheyenne and rubbing her chest and throat with both hands, Sunny coddled, "And you saved my fajitas, you brave little princess!" Cheyenne gave a single bark in recognition, her light blue eyes shining happily in En's Pip-Boy light. German shepherds didn't have blue eyes, did they? Probably some husky in there somewhere, for all En knew about dogs.

Melissa spat out a wad of blood that had run in her mouth and wiped her face on the remaining shreds of curtain that hung next to the windows. "Who knows what diseases these mongrels carry."

"So, En, still think your story'll be boring?" Sunny asked with a smile.

"Mmmmaybe not, no," En admitted. "Though it's still nowhere near the statue girl's epic."

Melissa blinked. "Statue girl?" It wasn't like her to be interested in conversations in this particular group, but maybe the fighting had brought them closer together. One could only hope.

"Yeah, Lysanna of Arroyo, I should say. The girl, well, the woman I suppose, who founded my village," En explained. "We all had to read her story in school."

"Stories being what they are, though," Ringo said, still rubbing the back of his head, "it's probably a lot of exaggeration. You know, for dramatic effect."

"Not this one, I think. It was written by my father, along with the people who were with her on her travels, and it doesn't just relate the heroic things. They wanted it to be as truthful as possible, and that means including the embarrassing or shameful bits as well."

"Shameful bits?" Sunny asked.

"Yeah. I shouldn't say this, because she's practically a legend in New Arroyo, but she was a bit of a coward. Self-centred too. Naïve and not too bright." En was a bit of a scaredy-pants too, she realized that all too well, but hey, she didn't have a book written about her, so she was allowed to be a bit yellow in the belly. "A lot of people consider the deaths of a few of her friends as her fault. And they may be right. I don't know, it's hard to tell when you weren't there."

"Well, we all have our faults," Ringo pointed out. "And it's almost impossible to make only good decisions when you're on the skin of your teeth."

"This is true," Sunny agreed. "I made a few brain farts in my life, and I hope I live long enough to make a whole lot more."

"Anyway, she's dead now," En ended the conversation with a shrug.

"And I'm dead tired," Melissa grunted, examining the old guitar in the corner without much interest, muttering, "Never heard of a guitar brand called Ulysses. Cheap junk," and tossing it back to the ground. It fell with a loud bonk. She tore off the curtain she'd wiped her face on, lay down on the earth where the floor had been eroded away, rolled the curtain to a ball and rested her head on it, closing her eyes. She didn't even ask to take the cuffs off. Ringo and Sunny unrolled their bedrolls and threw their sleeping bags on top of it, leaving En standing as the only one without a suitable place to sleep.

Sunny rolled her eyes. "Come on, sweetie, you can sleep with me. Our sleeping bag will hold us both. It'll be a bit of a squeeze, but that's good against the cold, right?"

"Thanks, Sunny. No funny business though," she said with a grin.

"Of course not. You're my pal, not the object of my depraved lust."

"Alright. Cause the only funny business you get from me will be when I tell a joke. Or cut the cheese with a particularly hilarious sound."

"_Not_ in my sleeping bag," Sunny warned. "It's good for warmth, but I prefer not to be trapped in a small sleeping bag with poisonous En-rectum gas."

Melissa began to snore lightly. If she really was asleep, that was pretty impressive. En's blood still had residual adrenaline coursing through it, and it'd take a long time settling down before she'd be able to sleep. But when she looked at Ringo, he too was lying down with his eyes closed, looking fast asleep, his clothes on in his sleeping bag. Damn, these people knew how to settle down. En kicked off her boots. "My wind smells of lavender, I'll have you know."

Sunny was looking at Ringo and Melissa suspiciously. "Think they're asleep?"

"Think so, yeah."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not taking the risk. I'm sleeping in my clothes."

"Me too. Bunch up." En wriggled herself into Sunny's sleeping bag, kicking her feet into the bag.

"Awh, En, sweetie, keep your stinkers out of my face," Sunny complained, scrunching up her face and slapping at En's socked feet, prompting En to only do more effort to rub her feet into Sunny's nose. Sunny finally managed to get a hold of the cuff of En's pants and pulled her into the sleeping bag.

"Nooo!" En wailed dramatically, clawing at the ground for additional effect, "the evil monster from the black sleeping bag is devouring me! We never should have split up in these dark woods! And I never should have shown my tits!"

"Shut up, you'll wake the others," Sunny hissed with a grin. "Now quit goofing off and sleep."

"Did you know," En asked, half-devoured by the terrible creature from the black sleeping bag, "the statue girl at one point ended up in a sleeping bag with her first friend-on-the-road, who was also female and a strong, protective type?" She turned off her Pip-boy light.

"No. Did her feet smell as badly as yours?"

"I dunno. Probably. It turned into boozed up lesbo-for-a-night sex."

"What, seriously?"

"Uh huh." She wrung herself all the way into the sleeping bag. It felt a bit crowded, but at least she wouldn't be cold.

"You weren't wrong about leaving in the embarrassing bits."

"Told ya." In the dark, feeling Sunny's warmth against her didn't make En crave any lesbo sex or whatever, but it did make her realize it was nice to have a friend you could be so close with. Like that one night in the Vikki & Vance casino. Just feeling someone's warmth and softness made her feel at peace. The pulsing in her belly had become almost unnoticeable, and her headache was at an all-time low as well.

"You're not trying to steer me towards lesbian sex, are you?" Sunny asked, sounding just a little bit serious. How she could even think she actually might be interested in such a thing, the silly dear.

"Sex? With you? No thanks."

"Alright, alright," Sunny grunted. "No need to be _that_ clear about it."

En chuckled, "No, no, I just mean sex doesn't interest me much."

A short silence. "Wait, I thought you had a crush on that one bartender dude?"

"A crush, yeah. You know, that fluttery feeling, wanting to hold hands and cuddle and wake up in the same bed, and strut down the street next to him showing him off, you know, stuff like that. But I have absolutely no urge to have sex with the guy."

Sunny was again quiet for a moment. Then the sleeping bag swished. "I don't get it. You've got the hots for him, but the thought of having sex with him makes you wrinkle your nose?"

"Well, no, it's not that I find the idea disgusting or anything, I just have no interest whatsoever in having sex with him. Or with anyone else."

"Maybe you just haven't had good sex yet."

It was En's turn to be quiet for a moment, unsure whether or not to tell Sunny. Then again, Sunny was her Mojave-best friend, as En had declared herself, so might as well not hide stuff from her. "I tried it once. Travelling mercenary guy. We were nuts about each other the second our eyes met, and that was with Allison-who-makes-everyone-look-ugly right next to me, imagine that! Eighteen, rugged but friendly, and totally gorgeous."

"Really?" Sunny asked lewdly. "Tell me more."

She sighed. "He was attentive and patient and did so much effort, I mean, he wasn't one of those two-minute guys you often hear about, he really tried to, you know… make me feel good, but I… just didn't enjoy it. I'm glad it meant something to him, and I don't regret it, but it was just… it didn't have any significance. There was no pleasure in it for me."

"Huh."

"I guess I'm just weird."

Another moment of silence. "Guess it's not something that interests you. Or maybe you still need to get a little older before you can appreciate it."

"Maybe. Hey uh, don't tell my parents about this, okay? They think I'm still… well, you know."

She practically _heard_ Sunny grin. "That your flower is still waving in the wind, untouched in a field of green."

"Smelling of lavender. Like my rectal wind."

She heard Sunny chuckle. "How's your belly?"

"Alright. Feels squashed but it could be worse. Your face?"

"Like a golf ball whacked really hard, really far."

"Awww."

Melissa moaned in her sleep, the dirt she lay on crunching as she switched positions.

"Think she can be trusted?" Sunny asked.

"Time will tell, Sunny. But I'll never trust anyone the way I trust you, that's a promise."

Sunny mock-punched her shoulder. How she managed to get her arm up in the tight sleeping bag was a mystery to En. "You better not. You and me, we're partners, right?"

En nodded, invisibly in the darkness. "M-hm. We're totally B.F.F.."

She felt Sunny's lips press a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep tight, sweetie."

"G'night, Sunny."


	16. Brain Hopper

**.  
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**SIXTEEN**

**Wolfhorn Ranch**

**July 1st**

**8:41**

The first sight En saw when she woke up and opened her eyes was Sunny's sleeping face, right in front of her. She let out a surprised yelp, but Sunny kept right on snoozing. Even when she worked herself out of the sleeping bag, under the curious eye of Cheyenne, Sunny didn't give a peep. As En had come to expect of her. The air in the ranch was still chilly, and it was altogether unpleasant to feel the change in temperature after sleeping cosily in the Sunny-warmed mummy bag. Ringo, surprisingly, still lay sleeping too, the side of his face wrinkled from the sleeping bag he'd lain on, but Melissa was gone.

Shit. She hadn't taken off, had she? God dammit. Still, no need to get nervous, she might simply have gone for some air.

En wriggled her feet into her boots, and without tying them, went outside. "Melissa?"

There was a short silence, but then came the familiar-accented voice, "What?"

En walked in the direction of the voice and saw Melissa buckling her belt. "Thought you took off."

"Promised, didn't I?" She tossed En the roll of toilet paper she'd taken with her. Must have been an endeavour with cuffed wrists.

"Yeah, guess you did."

"So there y'are. I assumed 'don't wander off' didn't mean, 'hold it up until you shit your pants'. How's your head?"

En sat down on a rock and unconsciously touched the scar on the side of her head. The stone was already getting warm from the sun. In an hour the Mojave would be scorching again. Maybe it wasn't that long a ways back, but the climate in New Arroyo was far less arid, and En kinda missed it. Sure, a nice hot sun was pleasant, but not _every__damn__day_. She understood now why those NCR guys always joked about wishing for a nuclear winter. "It's alright. Headache's a bother. So hey, I've been wondering something about you." It was a good time to ask, especially since Melissa had inquired about her headache, En felt confident enough to act on the feeling she'd been having.

"Really."

"Yeah. What drives you to be so different toward me than you are to Sunny and Ringo?"

Melissa leaned against the ranch wall, examining her dirty fingernails. "Cause I feel responsible for you. Told you that already, yeah?"

Yes, she had. But no way that was the only reason. There was something more to it, not just a sense of trying to make things right with her. This might have been a gamble, but En tried it anyway. "Isn't it at all possible that you're far less hard-hearted than you pretend to be?"

Her dark brown eyes flicked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She had to be careful on this one, but she knew if she handled it right, Melissa would have to admit being less uncaring and cold-blooded than she made herself out to be, and hopefully, by extension, behave the same way. "I think you're not just trying to make up for past mistakes, but that you're also… I don't know, developing some sort of affinity toward me as a person." It sounded horribly narcissistic, but what the Hell. "Is that about right?"

Melissa looked away and breathed in slowly. "I… guess I hate you less than I should for slapping me in chains and haulin' me around like a slave."

If she wanted Melissa to show some good will, En knew she'd have to show some herself. "Yeah, about those." She took the chain between the handcuffs, lifted up Melissa's hands and inserted the key, opening the cuffs and taking them off her. "So you can hate me another little bit less."

"You sure about this? Your mates will do their blocks when they see it."

What strange expressions she used. "You mean they'll get angry? I'm sure they won't. A bit peeved maybe, but they'll respect my wishes."

"Still, they're cranky enough already."

As if they didn't have any reason to be. That was another thing she needed to make clear to Melissa. The main cause that Sunny and Ringo resented her was Melissa herself. "They're cranky because they're afraid of you, and because you shot me. But they'd have stopped being hostile a long time ago if _you__'__d_ been less hateful to _them_."

"Yeah," she said, sounding only slightly annoyed. "You asked us to stop already, and I'm doing my best."

She had to give her that. "That's absolutely true, and if you keep up the effort for a while longer, things'll work out. They're already starting to thaw a bit towards you."

"Well I'm only doing it for your sake. Got a durry?"

"A what?"

"A smoke. Cigarette."

"Uh…no, sorry. I've seen Ringo light one or two, I'm sure he has some."

"I'll have to ask him then. Joy."

"Anyway, you said you only do it for my sake. So that must mean you care about my feelings, right?"

She let out a grunting, irritated sigh. "You really want me to say it, don't you?"

Smiling broadly, En simply said, "Yes."

"Alright then. Yes, I think you're a nice girl and you didn't deserve what's happened to you. And yeah, I suppose I've taken a liking to you. There you have it."

"You say that like it's a bad thing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just understand that my world and yours are not the same, and that for us, being a Khan also means… I dunno, keepin' it in the clan, you know? Getting' friendly with other people isn't something that's held in high regard where I come from."

En smiled at her. "Well, it's held in high regard where I come from. And I appreciate you saying it. Maybe after we've found this Benny guy, we can at least part ways on a friendly footing. I'd like that, and even though you might not believe me, I think Sunny and Ringo would like that too." But she had to add, "Although Sunny might not realize it yet."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I've no interest in bein' on friendly terms with those two. Squarin' things with you will put my mind at ease, and from what I've seen of you, you're worth puttin' in the effort for, but that only applies to you, not them."

En didn't really know what to say to that. She'd hoped Melissa would have become a little more positive towards her friends, but on the other hand, she couldn't blame her for being abrasive – after all, it's not at all easy to build up a respectful and considerate relationship with people who slapped you in irons. "Well, start with me and see how it goes from there, alright?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Oh, and since we're being all personal and buddy-buddy here..."

"Yeah?"

Melissa scraped her throat uncomfortably. "You might want to be a bit more discrete about scratching your uh – "

Happy barks from Cheyenne came towards them, stopping Melissa from finishing, and the dog stuck her frisky face out from between two rocks, then barked back to the front of the ranch.

"There you are," Ringo called out. "Come on, help me drag Sunny out of her sleeping bag and let's head out."

Sunny indeed needed to be dragged out of her bed. When En called her name, she simply moaned, "Just five more minutes…" and promptly fell back asleep.

With a nod, his face grave, Ringo took hold of the foot end of the sleeping bag and said, "If I end up as a mauled corpse, remember my bravery," and pulled, dragging the sleeping bag off Sunny, who snarled half-heartedly, her eyes still closed, and clawed at the already-removed bag. "Heartless devils."

En grinned and shook her head. "I have a feeling it's going to be like this every morning."

"I need my sleep," Sunny groaned. "It's not easy staying this pretty, you know."

"Hey, whoa," Ringo cried out, surprised. "I don't remember taking those off." He was pointing at Melissa's cuffs, or rather, the lack thereof. His own hand was at his belt, never mind that the guns were still locked in the cabinet.

"Good," Melissa said, unable to keep the snootiness out of her voice entirely. "Because it wasn't you who did it."

Ringo shot a disapproving frown at En. "Your responsibility, miss En."

"I think we've indulged in our handcuff-fetish enough for now," En merely said. "Melissa single-handedly beat the stuffing out of those Viper morons yesterday. She deserves this much."

"_Not_ single-handedly," Sunny feebly protested. "Cheyenne did her part."

"That I must admit," Melissa said, surprisingly friendly, kneeling down in front of Cheyenne. "Your dog's a real battler." When she reached out to scratch Cheyenne's cheeks though, the dog let out a low growl. Melissa stood up. "Guess she doesn't trust me yet. 'Salright little girl, no rush."

"She will, in time," Sunny said, pulling her boots on. "Maybe us too."

That was good to hear. Who knows, Sunny and Melissa might even be able to stand a full minute in each other's presence soon!

The sun was already high when they came out of the old Wolfhorn Ranch, and Melissa assured En that Novac was only around half a day's walk, and she wasn't far off. It was around two in the afternoon when they arrived.

"Huh," En remarked when she saw the town. "Guess it's easy to figure out where this place got its name."

The town of Novac itself wasn't big, not even worth calling a town. A few houses lay on a gentle slope beneath the main building, and that was all. The main building itself looked like a motel, surrounded by an old rusty fence, and some kind of weird-ass huge dinosaur biting... something, whatever it was, and looking out at the Wastes, the dinosaur apparently an extension of the motel itself. In front of the fence was a big red sign with white neon letters, saying NO VACANCY, only the last four letters were no longer lit and hung crooked, making NOVAC.

"We won't have trouble finding a place to sleep here," Sunny said. "Motel usually has rooms available, despite the NO VACANCY-sign."

"Careful," Sunny warned, pointing toward the mouth of the freaky dinosaur building. A barrel stuck out between the big wooden teeth, pointing out at the Wastes, to the east. "Sniper."

"Yeah, that's Manny Vargas," Ringo said, unconcerned. "Don't worry, he's just on the lookout for mutants and ghouls, not travellers. Guards the town by day. By night it's some other guy I don't know much about."

"That's right," Melissa confirmed, a smile playing around her lips. "Good old Manny Vargas."

"... Yeah," Sunny merely said, not understanding. "Anyway, might be best if we pay for a room first, you know, so we can dump our stuff, and then go see what's what."

Melissa nodded. "M-hm. The guy I'm supposed to contact won't be available for a few hours anyway."

Ringo started walking. "Come on, front desk is in that stupid dinosaur building."

"Well, hello there travellers, welcome to Novac! The town that houses the second-largest thermometer in the world!"

Ah, so that was what the tacky oversized dinosaur was biting the head off. A thermometer. How quaint. The owner of the exuberantly greeting voice (and until right now, holding the broom) was a woman in her fifties, with a thin, sharp face, as if someone had pressed his hands against her cheeks and pulled forward. Her smile looked genuine, but her eye sockets were saggy and sad-looking, as was the faded old summer dress she wore. The drooping eyeglasses on her nose only reinforced the effect.

Like before, Ringo remained silent and let En do the talking. So she supposed she better say something. "Uh... Hi. We'd like to book a room?"

"Oh for sure," the old woman chirped. "But oh my, what happened to your little noggin, dollie?"

"My brain is too big and it's bulging out through my temple. Price of being a superhuman genius."

The woman seemed unsure how to react. Good. "Uh... alright then. Well, um, about that room." She turned to the key board behind her. "How many will you be needing?"

"You okay with bunking with Melissa, Ringo?"

To En's relief, he didn't get all snippy. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll behave."

Melissa remained silent.

"Just two then," En told the woman behind the desk.

"Well, that's good, cause it's been busy as all heck today!"

Even though it didn't interest her a bit, En still asked, "Oh?"

"My word, you're the second group of people here to rent a room. It's rare enough that we even get one traveller."

Sourly, and obviously intent on being as snide as possible, Ringo muttered, "When will this shameless, unprincipled exploitation of the humble, hard-working entrepreneur end."

"How much?" En asked, concealing her amusement at Ringo's acid.

"A fifty each, dollie."

"What, per room? You jokin', love?" Melissa snapped.

The woman froze for a moment, her eyes on Melissa, then her face contorted into a grimace which was probably supposed to represent a smile. "No, no, of course not, dollie," she said to En. "I must have misspoken. For both."

"Dog allowed?" Sunny asked, her tone clear that she was only content with one answer.

Another short pause from the sun dress woman. "Of course, young lady." Then she turned around, took the two remaining keys from their hooks, and placed them on the counter. "Rooms need to be vacated by noon, or we charge an extra night."

"Uh, yeah sure."

She flashed another broad smile, making her face look like one of those harlequins in old paintings. "Well, enjoy your stay."

The motel rooms were just up the stairs, typical grungy motel rooms, only maintained with the minimum of effort, and En wearily chucked her pack into a corner while Sunny, predictably, let herself fall on the bed with a tired groan. "I could nap all day," she let En know. Cheyenne settled down on the mat next to the bed.

"Not just you. I'm beat."

"Mind if I close my eyes and snore loudly to annoy butch-ass Melissa?"

En peered into the safe worked into the wall and frowned at its lack of a lock of any kind. "I'd rather we use our time of day to find out if we can't make some money."

"I'm not stopping you."

Her tongue out the side of her mouth, En kicked the bed. "No chance, lazy-ass. Come on, get up. I'm gonna take a pee and then we're gonna go looking for a job." She did _not_ look forward to peeing, but it had to be done. Meanwhile, roaring laughter came through the wall, apparently originating from Melissa and Ringo's room.

Sunny turned her head to the door, her eyes still closed. "The guys are having fun."

"Yeah, good to hear." But En couldn't resist adding, "Though you might not think so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Damn, was she really going to have to play matchmaker fairy right up to the end? "Come on. You and Ringo. How long are you gonna keep playing coy with each other?"

Sunny yawned. "I have no idea what you mean."

All En could do in response to that was roll her eyes. "I'm gonna go pee. Then we're going job-hunting."

"Slave driver."

The pee was painful, as it always was. She still hoped the burning sensation would go away on its own if she just endured it long enough, but with every bathroom visit, she got a little bit less optimistic.

As she came out of the bathroom, Ringo trudged in and said, "So, Melissa says we'll be stuck here until nightfall to talk to her contact. Any ideas to pass the time?"

"Sleep," Sunny immediately replied. "You can go out for food and bring it to us. I'd prefer if you didn't drag in freshly-killed meat, but I'll be magnanimous and accept it if it's all you have."

"No chance. En, any ideas?"

She shrugged. "Take a look around town, see if anyone needs our capable and professional help?"

"Sure."

Sunny finally opened her eyes, resigned to the denial of sleepy-time. "What was so funny back there?"

"Uh? Oh, the frangers."

"The what?"

He chuckled. "Melissa's word for condoms."

Sunny sat bolt-upright. "Condoms?"

"Yeah," Melissa joined in from the walkway outside. "The stupid dinosaur there is called Dinky. And they have Dinky the Dinosaur condoms in the night stand, complete with that stupid thing's mug on the package, snarling like a maniac, and biting the head off its thermometer. That's prime boner-killing material right there."

Promptly, Sunny rolled over and pulled the nightstand's drawer open. "This I gotta see." Ransacking the drawer and chucking out the bible copy, she recovered a small plastic wrapper. "Dinky the Dinosaur condoms. What were they thinking?"

"Well, it's birth control, after all," En remarked. "And what better way to prevent pregnancy than let people open a condom packet with a madly grinning dinosaur mouth full of big-ass teeth on it, biting the head off a long, rod-shaped object?"

"Indeed. So miss En, shall we?"

"Yeah, let's go look for some job opportunities."

Not much chance of there being any people needing work when there weren't many people to begin with, but there did seem to be a doctor, right in the middle of making a house call, though strangely accompanied by two bodyguards. En and the others bought some stimpaks from her with the caps they had left, because tight money or not, stimpaks was _always_ a solid investment. The doctor had several chems for sale too, which was rather uncommon for a medical woman, but En supposed people in this day and age just had to make a living however they could. When asked about work opportunities, the doc pointed them to a house on the west end of town, with a small brahmin enclosure adjacent to it. Aha, so even in this pin head of a town, there was work to be found. Good!

"Afternoon," the owner of the house with the enclosure greeted dourly. "I ain't buyin', in case you're sellin'." He was a middle-aged man with a worn cowboy stetson, and a checkered shirt. Though not checkered black-and-white like Benny's, just the more common light blue-and-red.

"Uh, we're not selling anything," En told him. "But we were told to see you about a job you needed done?"

The man's eyes lit up. "Ah, right, not sure how you came by that information, but I do have a little job that needs doin'. And you look trustworthy enough." Then his eyes wandered to Melissa. "Well, most of you."

"So what do you need?"

He nudged his head. "Come on in, have a seat."

They sat down in his living room, on fine leather sofas, a bit too fine to be in place in this little hole of a town, but then again, the brahmin enclosure meant this was a rancher, and of course, they didn't have much trouble getting hold of new leather. "Drinks?"

Ringo and Melissa refused with a polite hand, and Sunny just said, "No thank you." En didn't hope this meant she had to be solidary, because she was thirsty. "A coke would be nice, yeah."

With a nod, the rancher opened his fridge and came back with a bottle, handing it to En, who said a polite thanks. When she looked at the bottle though, she saw the bartender at the Mojave Outpost wasn't the only one who confused drinks. Sunset Sarsaparilla, yuck. But now she had to be polite and drink it, she supposed. She uncapped the bottle and handed him back the cap, as politeness dictated.

"Name's Dusty McBride," the rancher said, pulling up the legs of his pants and sitting down. En had never understood why people did it, that little tug at their pants before sitting. "And I've got a little problem with my brahmin. Well, the brahmin are fine, but they ain't immune to bullets."

"Most brahmin aren't," Ringo remarked.

"Indeed. What I don't know is who's been killin' 'em. They just shoot one animal full of holes and just... leave the carcass. I mean, poachers would cut away meat, but nope. They just get shot up."

"Odd," Sunny said. "Any rival ranchers in the area?"

"None! All Novac gets their meat from here, so I'm thinkin' it ain't no resident either."

"They'd be killing their own food if they were," Ringo reasoned. "Tried going outside to look?"

McBride popped the cap of a beer bottle. "Mister, I ain't no yellow-belly, but some psychotic asshole shootin' up my animals in the middle o' the night for no reason other'n that he can, I'm damn well stayin' in my bed."

"Alright," En said. "We'll keep an eye on your brahmin tonight." Could always stay at a distance and peer through the scope of her XM-21. No need to get close.

The man grinned. "That's mighty fine to hear. You might wanna keep a distance though, don't feel like seein' murdered people lyin' amongst the brahmin. I love 'em, but they're just cows, so don't get yourselves killed."

"We'll be careful." En got up, but Ringo stopped her. "What's the pay?"

"Oh! Right," the man realized with a grin. "A fifty if you can let me know what's goin' on, three hundred if you can put a stop to it."

"Nice pay," Ringo said. "Could hire a decent sniper for that, like the one guarding your town."

McBride chuckled awkwardly. "Well, yeah, but there's a little problem with that. Manny and I don't speak after the big riot over my meat prices, an' the other guy, well..."

"Yes?" En asked, though she knew she shouldn't be so curious.

Another chuckle. "He suspects me of somethin' I haven't done."

"Right, well, that's none of our business," Ringo concluded the matter. "We'll look into it."

McBride tipped his hat. "Appreciate it, friend. Hell, you're one lucky bugger, you know that?"

Ringo didn't understand. "Uh, excuse me?"

His grin became so wide, the top of his head looked about to fall off. "Don't tell me you've never thanked your lucky stars for letting you travel alone with three girls?"

"Oh trust me," En said. "It's no joke for him. We're absolute ass-pains when we're on our periods."

"And me," Melissa concluded, "I'm just a pain in the arse all the time."

The rest of the afternoon was spent resting and cleaning up in the motel rooms. Sunny was a lazy-pants, for sure, but En did share her sentiment about taking advantage of an actual bed as long as possible. After a short sleep, which made her wake up feeling groggy (and with a headache, but when did she _not_ have a headache, she took a quick shower and put on some fresh clothes. "Hey Sunny, you know what would be awesome?"

"If you let me sleep instead of waking me up asking what would or would not be awesome?"

En ignored her complaining. "If this motel had a washing machine."

"So go find one, I'm _sleeping.__"_

Grumpy-face clearly wasn't coming, so En just snatched up her clothes and Sunny's backpack and went out. She should really have left Sunny's dirty laundry as punishment for her sourness, but then again, it was Sunny, and if En could make her happy by washing her clothes, then fine, she'd be the bigger person on this one.

Melissa sat on the walkway, smoking a cigarette, her legs dangling over the edge. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"I did, for an hour or so, but sleeping during the day is just, I dunno... weird."

"Yeah."

"Hey I'm going to find a washer somewhere, need me to wash anything of yours?"

She flicked the cigarette away. "Only thing you could wash is what I'm wearin'. Didn't have the luxury of havin' the opportunity to pack before you scooped me up, remember?"

"Yeah. Got a point there."

Melissa got up, brushing the non-existent dust off her leather pants, the muscles in her arms rippling as she did so. En wouldn't want to take a beating from _her,_ that much was sure. "I gotta go see my contact, arrange for him to meet us later tonight."

"Alright, I'll go find a washer." The question was stuck halfway in En's throat, but she swallowed it.

"No, I won't run off," Melissa said, irritated. Looks like En's question had been visible rather than audible.

"Didn't say you were gonna."

"Didn't have to." With that, she turned around and walked down the stairs to the ground floor. En did the same, only heading for the motel's front desk, while Melissa walked to the dinosaur.

"Oh, hello, dollie," the old woman in the sundress exclaimed, still sweeping her office. It must be a sad life you lead if all you can do to pass the time is sweep.

"Uh, hi, I was wondering if you have a working washing machine here."

"Oh! Yes, it just so happens that we do, and you're free to use it, I just have to charge some caps for, you know, detergent and water and wear-and-tear, you know?"

"Uh, sure, how much?"

She gave a winning smile, or one that at least was supposed to look winning. "Just a fifty, dear."

Wait, what? Was this a joke? Or did this woman think she'd be easy prey for highway robbery with Ringo and Melissa gone? "Um, is it a golden washer, with platinum dials and powdered diamond detergent?"

"No, dollie, why?"

"Because I could almost _buy_ my own washer for that."

"Eh... yes, well, I suppose because you're such a dear, I can lower the price to twenty-five."

Still steep, but what the Hell. If things went right, they'd be earning a nice three hundred tonight, and for clean clothes, she didn't mind paying some, even if it was extortion. "Fine, twenty-five. But that damn washer better make my clothes cleaner than the asshole of a Vault City Citizen with OCD."

She quickly pocketed the caps, with that deftness all greedy people had when pocketing money, as if it'd evaporate in their hands, or their business partner would change his mind and snatch it back after paying. "It's in the garage, dollie."

Dollie, dollie, stick it up your behind. The old vulture was friendly, but not when it came to caps. En wondered why some people chose to live that way, always thinking about money and the ways of getting it. It must be such a tedious, unfulfilling life, always worrying about one thing and never having enough. Shit, if she wanted clean clothes, she was prepared to part with her last bottle caps for it, but these people, no way, hold on to every last bottle cap even if it meant being miserable.

The garage was just outside the motel, more a car port, really, since the rolling shutter had long been taken out and, presumably, used for scrap. En sat down on a tool bench after plopping her clothes and Sunny's into the old, banged-up rusty washer and loading it with stale-smelling detergent. So much for platinum knobs and powdered diamond detergent.

The washer's centrifuge lazily made its turns, the clothes tumbling inside of it. It was gonna take a while. Shoulda brought something to read.

Or wait, the garage was full of supposedly-useless junk by the look of it. Most of it _was_ useless, but not everything. There was an old video camera chucked onto a shelf, its lens broken and the body cracked and rusted. But the scope looked intact. Hmmm. And a little further lay a binocular with its glasses busted, and an old hard hat, dented and rusted beyond repair. Hmm, now that was something she could get creative with.

After sprinting back to the motel for her tool belt and subjecting herself to more disturbed-Sunny-name-calling, she started work on her little contraption. She'd heard that most of those video cameras, at least the later models, could film in low-light situations. So, if she hooked the camera's scope and viewing unit onto half the frame of the binoculars, then attached that contraption to the headband of the hard hat, then fitted it with one of the little batteries she'd pried out of an old busted radio, stick a transformer in between maybe, she'd have herself an awesome pair of night vision goggles.

Well, not a pair, more like a night vision monocle, but still, if it worked, it'd be nice. And En doubted anyone cared that she cannibalized some of the crap here. And if they did, screw them, she'd paid twenty-five caps for the use of a damn washer, surely the fine folks of this town could part with some worthless scrap parts for that price.

The contraption didn't take long to put together, the parts, like always, telling En how they needed to be put together, with her just doing the manual labour. She'd never believed her father when he said that when he wrote, the story wrote itself and he just did the typing, but as she learned to put things together, she realized he actually might have been right about it. Ah well.

She screwed the camera's scope into place and fixed an old light switch to the battery, to activate the thing. Then she noticed the scope had four settings: ON, OFF, LO-LITE and... whoa, IR. If that meant what she thought it meant, that damn thing would be even handier if she got it to work. She hooked the battery and light switch up to the scope and viewing unit, and soldered the wires in place. A click of the light switch, the dial switched to ON, and yep, the scope, tucked in the binocular cylinder, lit up.

"Hoohooo, nice!" she celebrated to herself, setting the night vision scope on her head (it hurt when it scraped over her scar) and peering through the cylinder. The scope showed the garage in its regular light, on normal settings. She flicked the dial, and the garage turned various shades of green, with the light reinforced. Low light vision, success! Another switch on the dial, and the view became blue, with the washer, the lamp overhead, and En's own hands lighting up red and yellow. Infra-red vision, success! Level complete, En Tessara, get ready for the bonus round! "Oh I say, old chap," En declared to the garage walls, "Pip-pip, tally ho, good show, must just adjust the old monocle."

She clicked the light switch again and the scope went dark. Gently, she stuffed the night vision monocle in her pack, feeling damn proud of herself. Hey, how many people had built their own night vision viewers at sixteen? Not many, that's how many.

With a soft and wheezy beep, the washer announced that its routine was done. En scooped the laundry out (it was pathetic, a few pairs of undies, two or three t-shirts and several pairs of socks), and with it in her arms, walked back to the motel. Twilight had set in, and it'd be dark soon, so it wouldn't be long 'til they had their brahmin guarding date.

"Well, I'll be damned, pardner!"

Victor stood in the motel courtyard, as if he'd been waiting for her, his moronic cowboy cartoon face still grinning in the middle of its body. What the Hell was this bucket of bolts doing here?

"I gotta say, it's a pleasant surprise, runnin' into you here, little cowgirl."

"Yeah, how pleasant," En muttered back. "Forgive me if I don't open a bottle of champagne, I have my hands full."

"Nice little town, this is," Victor offered as advice, unasked, "But soon as I rolled in here, my skin started to itch. Might wanna watch yourself here, little trail hand."

Was that a warning or a threat? "What are you doing here, Victor?"

"Well, I'm just travellin', mindin' my own business, little pardner," the robot answered in its tinny, obnoxiously cheerful cowboy voice.

"Yeah, sure you are." Whatever it was that the stupid rust bucket was doing, it was definitely _not_ just 'travellin' and mindin' his own business'. Between this strange meeting and his no-show at the fire-fight in Goodsprings, the damn robot just became more suspicious every time she saw him.

"Well, been good chattin' with you, little trail hand, but I best be on my way."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"See you on the trails, cowgirl," Victor called out cheerfully, then rolled away on its one stupid tyre. Worthless rust box.

The door of one of the ground-level motel rooms went open, and a man came out bearing a rifle on his back. He turned, locked his door, then walked to the dinosaur, his path taking him past En. He had sharp features, hard eyes, even behind his sunglasses, and he wore a red beret on his shaved head. He greeted En with a nod and a frugal, "Miss," when he walked past and saw her staring, her wet laundry still in her arms.

"Uh, hi, sorry, didn't mean to stare," En apologized.

He kept walking and with a shrug said, "Don't worry. It's what children do." And with that, he climbed the stairs to the big Dinky the Dinosaur building.

En trudged back to the motel room, the laundry in her arms, and was greeted by, surprise, surprise, a sleeping Sunny, her mouth wide open and her arms cradling her head. She hung the laundry on the towel rack and dropped on the bed next to Sunny, not to sleep, but just to get a few minutes of relaxation.

She must have fallen asleep, because the knock on the door made her jump. "Hmm?"

"It's me," Ringo's voice came through the door. "With Melissa and her contact."

She wiped the sleep out of her eyes, then tapped Sunny awake. "Come on in."

The contact turned out to be a Hispanic-looking man with a light goatee, dressed in army fatigues. Like the man she'd seen in the courtyard, he carried a scoped rifle on his back.

"This is Manny Vargas," Melissa introduced him. "He's the day-time sniper, but he's also a former Khan, still helps out his brothers on occasion. I told him what happened to you though, and he's alright with tellin' you where Benny took off to."

"Hey, how are you," the sniper said, taking a seat on the dresser. En greeted back with a neutral, "Hey."

Vargas took a look at Melissa, then back to En. "We gotta be clear on one thing, I'm not telling you this so you can get revenge on Jessup."

"Who?"

Melissa cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Jessup's the Khan that was with Benny and me when we..."

"Shot her," Ringo finished bluntly.

"Yeah."

"So yeah," Vargas went on. "I won't have you killing my fellow Khans, I'm only telling you where they've gone so you can go after Benny, not Jessup."

En stuck to a diplomatic, "It's Benny I'm after, yeah."

"And if this Jessup character cooperates when we find him," Sunny continued, "Then there's no reason we'd have to get ugly with him."

"Yeah, good enough, I suppose." He sighed. "Last I heard, Benny and Jessup took off to Boulder City. They had a few things to do there, so they might have stayed a while. Might even still be there."

En nodded. "Thank you. This is real cool of you."

"Yeah well. You're not the only ones with a score to settle with Benny though, just so you know."

Sunny chuckled. "I bet a man who does what he does has plenty of enemies."

Boulder City, that was their next destination, then. More than a day's march from here, so hopefully checkers and beardie were still there. If not, well, at least they had a new place to go looking for clues. But night had fallen, and now it was time for that brahmin guarding job. Didn't the statue girl once do a brahmin guarding job too? Yeah, she had. Almost the same as this one, brahmin mysteriously dying, but not from poachers. It had led her to her destination, the Vault of the Holy Thirteen, known among normal people as just good old Vault 13. En doubted this particular job would miraculously lead her to Benny, but she was already fine with it if it led her to three hundred caps. And the new night vision monocle she'd built would come in damn handy. Between that and Cheyenne, no brahmin killer would be able to hide.

En got first watch, taking Melissa with her, much to Ringo's concern, but not to her own. She was pretty convinced Melissa wouldn't throttle her in the night or suddenly snap her neck from behind. After all, she could've done it several times already, and hadn't. They'd taken position up in the hills to the west of Novac, at a distance so they wouldn't be spotted, but close enough to see if anything happened. Darkness had fallen, and En occasionally peered through the scope, switching it between low light and infrared, but only seeing cows. It was going to be a long night.

"So, uh, sleep well then?" Sunny asked Ringo as they stood by the motel doors.

"Indeed," Ringo replied.

"You uh, gonna be alright with Melissa there?"

He shrugged. "Don't see why not. I'm sure she's not as insufferable as she appeared at first."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"No, nothing. You seemed to be having fun back there. You know, with the condoms."

He grinned. "Yeah, the 'frangers'. Or boner-killers as she called them."

Sunny took a breath, "Hey you two aren't gonna... well, you know?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I don't know, get together or something?"

He burst into laughter. "I? And Melissa? Are you feeling alright, Sunny?"

"Alright, I was just wondering."

"Can I ask why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I feel a bit threatened by her. You know, we had so much fun together before she showed up and, well... I'm a bit afraid that with her joining up, I don't know... we wouldn't be such good friends anymore. And she's all tough-as-nails, you know."

"So?"

"I know, it's stupid, but it makes me feel like she's stepping in to take over my role sometimes, you know? That she won't need me anymore? Makes me feel a bit neglected."

"Neglected? Surely, Sunny, that's just a thought. En thinks the world of you."

Sunny swallowed. "And what about uh, what about you?"

"I'm sure she appreciates my help as well."

"That's not what I mean," Sunny said, irritated at his misunderstanding. "What do _you_ think of me?"

He smiled and said, "Sunny, I haven't regretted a minute since you watched us leave, stood there looking indecisive, and then started running."

Sunny took a deep breath. It had to be now. She came closer and said, "So, you unapproachable, unfathomable stuffy-man, you going to kiss me, or what?"

* * *

><p>"What's that, down there?" Melissa pointed out, whispering in her hoarse voice.<p>

"Don't see anything," En muttered, pulled from her thoughts. Maybe there was a glimmer of something, as if light was slightly bending where Melissa was pointing, but not much else. Still, she lowered the night vision monocle ("What kind of shonky business is that? Looks bodgy as all Hell.") and set the thing to infra-red. And indeed, not just the cows lit up, but a large, bright red shape could be seen where Melissa had pointed, a metre or twenty from the brahmin pen, apparently invisible to the naked eye. What the Hell was that?

"Melissa... there's really something there." En whispered shakily, her mouth dry.

Melissa herself was far less scared of the invisible giant. "So shoot it then?"

"Yeah but... what if I, I mean, what if doesn't do anything?" Her mind imagine it now, the round from her XM-21 going through the invisible monster, then the creature lifting its head, seeing where the bullet had come from, and then, as an insanely quick, invisible mass, zipping up the hillside to hear her head off her shoulders, Melissa running in fear as the monster smashed En's short-haired head, night vision monocle and all, apart against the rock face in an explosion of skull fragments, brain tissue, teeth, and eyeballs.

"Invisible doesn't mean unkillable, you bed wetter," Melissa stated matter-of-factly. "Now come on, shoot it before it kills another damn cow."

En swallowed, her throat dry, and lined up the rifle barrel with the bright red form displayed in the infrared scope. As she curled her finger around the trigger, the bright red form took out a long green-and-yellow object and a faint wailing came up to where En and Melissa were hiding.

"It's saying something," Melissa stated redundantly.

"Shhh!"

The cows, the voice lamented. Cursing them, hating them, pleading them to stop screaming. The screaming of the cows kept it awake at night, it heard them in its head, screaming and howling, and it wanted them to stop, stop, be dead so they could no longer scream.

A bright red flash lit up at the mouth of the green-and-yellow barrel and the invisible creature fired its weapon, the gunshots tearing through the night in rapid fire, same time En pulled the trigger of her rifle. As her round hit its target, the invisibility fell away, and En and Melissa saw a muscled, dark-blue skinned, enormous humanoid stagger to the side, dropping its weapon as blood gushed from the hole in the side of its throat. It clawed at the gun shot wound, fell to one knee, and then reached for its weapon.

Melissa's hand slapped her in the shoulder. "Super mutant! Hit it again, God dammit!"

_That_ was a fucking super mutant? And it had been invisible? How do super mutants get invisible? What the Hell?

The mutant picked up its weapon and lifted it to start firing at the hills where its attackers had hidden. "You scream too," the thing roared. "All I want is to sleep! But you scream in my head! Don't want to do this! But silence you!" Between En's nerves and the mutant's movements, it was hard to keep the crosshair on it.

"Anytime you're ready, sweetheart," Melissa growled, taking cover.

En fired, the bullet whacking into the super mutant's skull, taking a sizeable chunk with it. The mutant was knocked back, falling on its ass, but it again came to one knee and shakily lifted the machine gun. En pulled the trigger again, striking the mutant in the forehead, blowing what was left of its brain out the back of its head. It sat upright on its knees for a moment, then fell forward, flat on its face, its lower legs coming up with the fall, and then going down again. The cow the mutant had shot staggered for a few more seconds, then also fell down dying.

"That got 'im," Melissa confirmed, panting. "In the nick of time, I daresay."

"... Yeah."

Melissa's hands took her by the jacket and pulled her to her feet. "We need to do somethin' 'bout those heebie-jeebies of yours, girl."

"Yeah," En admitted. "I know." She must look like a completely pathetic coward to this powerhouse of a woman.

Melissa peered down at the fallen mutant. Its brain had been blown out of its skull in a black, bloody cone. "Still, we're alive and he isn't, so good on ya, jillaroo."

She began the descent to the fallen mutant, and En followed, her legs still trembling. This sniper thing was something she was really good at – until her target got close or shot back, it seemed. And Melissa was right: she'd have to do something about this, because the next time she hesitated or missed due to nerves, someone might get hurt or killed. And she didn't want to see Sunny, Ringo, or even Melissa hurt on her account. No way. Maybe Melissa could help get her fears under control, after all, she was completely fearless, judging from what En had seen during the Viper brawl, and when she'd had a barrel of a gun to the back of her head, only days ago.

"This one won't be mooin' again, though," Melissa remarked, standing next to the dead brahmin and stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Still, farm boy's animals are safe now, so that's gotta be worth some cash to him."

"Yeah... yeah, guess so."

She cocked her head. "You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

How did she do it? Not getting scared during firefights or in danger, just going into adrenalin mode and then just going right back to normal afterwards. As if nothing had happened. "Yeah, I'm... alright." In her head, the image of the super mutant firing, the bullets zipping through the air and taking bloody chunks out of her and Melissa's head still flashed. How did the others shut that out? How could they just not think about that?

"Come on, you little sook. Let's get to bed, we can tall our cowboy friend the good news tomorrow." She pointed at the rusty machine gun the mutant had dropped. "Might want to pick that up."

They walked back through the only street Novac had, to the motel. During the walk, the cold night air drove the fear somewhat from En's head, though the pounding, of course, remained. That never went away. The shaking had gone down mostly, apart from the abs that still twitched every now and then. Melissa on the other hand, walked casually, smoking one of the cigarettes she'd apparently leeched off Ringo, and looking up at the stars.

A loud bang rent the silence as they came to the motel, and as En lifted her head, she saw a silhouette of a woman in the night, collapsing in front of the dinosaur, chunks too gruesome to contemplate flying out of her skull.

"Bloody Hell," Melissa let out, sounding surprised but not altogether panicky.

What the fuck had just happened? As En and Melissa stood watching, the night time sniper, the guy with the beret, only he wasn't wearing it right now, calmly walked down the stairs, slinging his rifle on his back. En fumbled for her own rifle, intending to level it at him and tell him to stop right there, but Melissa placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Not our beef."

The sniper crossed eyes with En and Melissa briefly, said in a gravelly voice, "Sorry 'bout the mess," and walked out of the chain link fence surrounding the motel, towards a man in a long trench coat, who took something off his head and handed it to the sniper, and together they walked out into the Wastes.

A black guy emerged from the dinosaur gift shop, still dressed in his pyjamas, and ran for the motionless body. "Jeanie May! Oh my God, they killed Jeanie May!"

"I saw everything," an old woman crowed from the walkway above them. "It was that no-good Craig Boone that done shot her!"

In his boxers, Manny Vargas stood in the door opening of his motel room on the ground floor, loosely holding his rifle. "Well," he said to Melissa and En, "looks like Boone finally found his man. Or his woman, in this case."

"What the Hell was that about?" En asked, flustered.

"Never thought it'd be Jeanie May, though," Manny continued, unperturbed. "But trust me, if Boone pulled the trigger, he was a hundred percent sure. And she deserved what she got."

"But what was it about?"

He smiled mysteriously. "Nothing you guys need to worry about. But this town will rest easier now that Boone's got who he was looking for all this time. And don't grieve for that old bat Jeanie May. None of us liked Carla, but if you sell a pregnant woman to the Legion, then you deserve everything you get."

"But - "

"Don't worry. It's justice, I guarantee you that much." He pointed at the rifle on her back. "And that rifle takes what, 7.62 calibre, right? Not the real big sniper rounds anyway."

"Uh... I think so, yeah."

He shrugged, "Boone uses Lapua rounds. And there's a witness. No way you can get blamed for it either." He smiled again. "Go to sleep, justice has been done here."

En looked at Melissa, who only shrugged. "Local trouble, not our problem."

They climbed the stairs to the walkway of the motel, Melissa saying a casual, "Well, sleep tight, jillaroo."

"Uh, yeah. You too. And hey, thanks for the company and all tonight."

Melissa shrugged. "It's all good. You're alright to spend time with."

If she could still give compliments, then En probably hadn't ruined her own impression with Melissa completely. "Thanks."

"Hey uh, think we've been burgled?"

One of the doors was wide open, the other was shut. What the Hell? "Uh... I don't know."

Melissa peered into the open room and muttered, "No one here."

It wasn't until En saw the weathered, faded Do Not Disturb sign on the door, that she understood. Finally! "Looks like we'll be bunking together, Melissa."


	17. Mark of the Traitor

**.**

**SEVENTEEN**

**Novac, Motel Room**

**July 2nd**

**02:12**

En was grateful she didn't have to suffer the through-the-wall creaking of bedsprings or any other uncomfortable noises during the night. If Sunny and Ringo _had_ been doing the nasty, they had at least gotten the business done before En and Melissa's return, so neither would have to stare awkwardly at the ceiling until the noise died.

Sunny must have been very persuasive to get Ringo to move to her room though, since there was no way, at least, En thought, that Ringo would just let Melissa share a room with En, without his supervision and protection. Then again, En had a pretty good idea just in what way Sunny had won him over.

So she'd been left to bunk with Melissa. Part of her didn't mind the idea, but there was still this nagging voice in her head that told her, who knows, Melissa might just decide to wring her neck like a chicken, cut her body into pieces, and dump her naked dismembered bits in trash bags across the Mojave. Rationally, of course, she knew Melissa was far less dangerous than she let on, but try telling that to her emotional side.

Still, Melissa hadn't tried anything funny so far. She'd trudged into the bathroom, brushed her teeth with her finger and En's toothpaste (they should go shopping for the poor thing soon), schlepped back to her bed, dropped herself down on it in her clothes without even bothering to crawl under the blanket, kicked off her goth boots, closed her eyes, said a muttered, "Night, jillaroo," and nodded off. Or at least, she _looked_ asleep. En had done the same, brushing her teeth and splashing some water in her face, and crawling into bed, taking care to change into her sleeping panties and tank top under the sheets.

It had taken her a while to get the murder out of her head, the woman who ran the motel getting her head popped by that creepy sniper dude. En had seen dead people before, even killed a few, at Goodsprings and outside the Bison Steve in Primm, but those had been 'decent' kills, right? For a good reason. Like self-defence, or freeing hostages. Not like this one. The guy had just aimed through his scope, set his jaw, and blown the old biddy's head into mush. Sure, she'd been a greedy bint, but that didn't mean she deserved getting her brains blasted across the road. Manny Vargas had said something about selling out a pregnant woman, though, and in the end, Melissa had been right. It was not their affair.

En looked at her Pip-boy. She'd been in bed for half an hour already. Normally, she fell asleep right away, so it was odd that she hadn't tonight. After all, she'd stayed up until after midnight. Through the window, pale light fell in, radiating from a lamp post in the motel courtyard, casting light blue stripes on the far wall and the ceiling. She'd forgotten to close the curtains all the way, but that wasn't a disaster, since Melissa was already asleep, and En herself usually had no trouble sleeping in places that weren't fully dark. Maybe it was just the latent and irrational fear of the woman sleeping (and again, lightly snoring) next to her, or maybe just the leftover adrenaline from the evening. After all, she'd almost been shot at by a super mutant with a rusty machine gun, and then come home to see an avaricious but otherwise harmless (in her eyes) woman get her brain pulped. You'd have trouble getting to sleep for less. Though of course, Melissa hadn't been bothered at all. Who knows what kind of awful things she'd seen in her life. And done, but En didn't want to dwell on that thought, she preferred thinking of Melissa as a hard-ass chick with a good heart deep down, but she also knew that you couldn't be in a gang like the Khans and never do a horrible thing. Like shooting a sixteen-year-old in the head. Gah, let it go! She's sorry, she's borne the humiliation of being cuffed like a criminal to prove it. And lying there like a log, snoring and occasionally going num-num-num in her sleep, she really didn't seem so threatening.

_Fuck_, her groin itched. She allowed herself to scratch furiously at it, to avalanche the itch with pain, because she'd rather be hurting than itching. God dammit she needed to get it checked out, but no way she was going to lie down in front of a doctor, open her legs and let her poke around in there. Yes, her. The idea of a _male_ doctor doing it was too icky to even contemplate. But maybe it'd go away on its own, right? Those things do, sometimes. Maybe this would just slowly lessen and finally vanish, and then in a few months she'd go, "Hey, what ever happened to that itch?", as if she hadn't even noticed it was gone. Just keep the faith and it'd go away. Though to be honest, she didn't even dare to look at it. What if she took a peek and her inside turned out to be an inflamed, dried, cracked ruin with white discharge leaking from it and a smell that could knock down a brahmin? Yecch, that was to gross to even think about. And she was probably just letting her imagination go nuts anyway. Still, she preferred not to look and remain in ignorance. It was, after all, bliss.

She should write a letter home, to tell her folks she was doing alright. They were used to her being away from home for longer times, but this had been a simple delivery job at first, and with her staying gone so long, they'd probably be getting worried. She resolved to write something in the morning. Of course, she'd have to leave out all the bloody bits (maybe write that she'd chased the Powder Gangers out of Goodsprings by beating them in a dance-off or something, complete with finger-snaps and mullet hairdos), but a short letter saying she was alright and had some business to take care of would probably ease the worries of her parents, and save her a worried-sick lecture when she got back.

Allison would probably be worried too. What about Christopher though? Would he think about her? Probably not, especially not with Allison sitting in his bar and drawing with her cola light, as she did day in, day out during vacation. Every once in a while, some brave guy would nervously make his way to Allison's table and ask, with that typical throat-scrape, "whatcha drawin'?", only to be shot down by an annoyed look and a snide "faces of morons who use stale opening lines". Odd how Allison was so uninterested in guys. Well, no, in all guys, there was the occasional man that got her heart to beat a little faster, but confident, slightly haughty Allison always turned to a stammering heap of jelly around a guy she liked. En didn't have that problem, really, but there must be other things, or guys would like her more. Allison always said it was because she had the sexual radiation of a fridge on the North Pole during a particularly cold winter, but it wasn't her fault she wasn't interested in sex. Take Christopher. Like she'd told Sunny, she had no desire to have slimy, smelly, sweaty sex with the man. All she wanted was to just hold him close, kiss him, love him and feel loved, and maybe brag a little with him on her arm. So why try to come off as sexy or promiscuous? It'd only lead to disappointment when they found out sex wasn't something she was interested in. Hell, she'd tried it once and not only had it not been any fun, she'd ended up with this itch-slash-pee-burn because of it. No thank you.

As if summoned, the itch returned in full fury. _Fuck_. More furious scratching provided some relief, even though the itch was on the inside. God dammit, what the fuck had this guy saddled her with!

"Oi. Jillaroo. Lie still, yeah?" Melissa's annoyed, sleep-hoarse voice grunted. "Keep your fuddin' on an inaudible level."

"My what?"

A grunting sigh. "Your masturbatin'."

"Wha... my ma...? I wasn't!" En blurted out. "I totally wasn't!"

"Nuthin' wrong with that, it's a healthy way to pass the time. Just don't be too loud."

"Melissa! I wasn't... you know! Come on! How icky would that be? With you there?"

A quiet chuckle was all she got in reply. Great, now En didn't know if Melissa really thought she'd been, errr, well, 'taking some time to herself', or that she was simply yanking her chain. Probably the latter, right? She couldn't seriously think En would have a good rubbing with her in the room... right?

"I'm just pullin' your leg, you sook," Melissa croaked. "But seriously, lie still, you're makin' me nervous."

And the exploding brain pan of that super mutant didn't faze her? Or the old biddy that got some cerebral ventilation merited only a shrug? But En frumping around beneath the blankets, _well_!

She resumed the scratching, but took care to be silent this time. When the itch was thoroughly upstaged by the pain, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

With a jump, she awoke to a loud crashing noise. Before she realized what happened, four men stormed into the motel room, guns drawn. The fifth flicked on the light, blinding Melissa and En. What the fuck?

"… the Hell?" Melissa croaked, shielding her eyes from the light and propping herself up on one elbow.

"So, Melissa," the man who'd flicked on the light said, "Here we are."

"… Clive? What are you doing here?" Melissa asked, still confused. "Didn't you get my last message?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

It was then that En noticed all the men were dressed in leather vests with the raging, flaming skull on them. Oh, shit these were _Khans_. And they'd probably come to reclaim Melissa. Oh, fuck, this was bad. And Sunny and Ringo in the other room, did they get them as well? Shit, shit, shit!

"I left a last dead drop in the hollow fuckin' tree trunk just outside of Wolfhorn Ranch, telling me you didn't have to come for me, that I'd deal with this myself," Melissa said, calmly and imperiously.

The man shrugged, his submachine gun still trained on En. "Must have missed that." Like Melissa, he was tattooed in various places, but he had the same flaming skull tat on his forearm, his other shoulder, and the side of his neck. His hair was shaven at the sides and back, and gelled into short spikes on top of his head, and cruel eyes lay sunken in darkened eye sockets, typical of heroine users.

Melissa sighed irritably. "You know the dead drop point at Wolfhorn Ranch. You knew we were going there, so you couldn't have missed it. Anyway, thanks for the dramatic entry and all, but there's no need. I'll come back when I'm done with this." She shooed him away and ostentatiously made to go back to sleep again. Melissa must be rather important in the Khans to be able to treat her fellow gang members this way.

The Khan shook his head. "I don't think so, Mel. You left us those dead drops asking to come get you. Well, here we are. You can't just tell us to fuck off. Not how it works."

Getting more annoyed, but still not sounding impressed, Melissa told him, "I'm one of Papa's lieutenants. You'll do as you're bloody told."

The man chuckled as if he knew this was coming. "Again, I don't think so. You seem to misunderstand the situation. Get her!"

Abruptly, three of the other Khans threw themselves on top of Melissa, trying to hold her down. Melissa struggled furiously, raining blows on her attackers, but one against three, lying down, wasn't a fair fight, and they managed to immobilise her, even as she thrashed and snarled.

"Leave her alone!" En shouted, throwing her blanket off her and leaping out of bed, but the last Khan flunky grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed the muzzle of his pistol hard into her back. "Please don't," he said. "Don't make me use this."

En briefly turned her head, and her eyes met with those of a young Khan, with a heavy lock of black hair over his one eye, and his other blackened with eyeliner. Despite his Khan attire, he looked gentle and kind, completely out of place. But the muzzle of the pistol didn't feel gentle and kind at all, and En stopped struggling.

"Hold her down," the Khan leader, Clive, ordered. Then he said to Melissa, "We didn't come here to free you, if that's what you thought."

"What the fuck are you babblin' about?" Melissa snarled back, pinned down by the three Khans, one holding each arm, and the other putting his weight on her legs.

"You see," he explained, "you're a disgrace."

"What? D'you have any idea who you're bleedin' talkin' to? Did you fuckin' forget who I _am_?" Melissa roared, still struggling against the weight of the three Khans.

"You're nobody, Melissa," the Khan boss said casually, filling a bowl with a large water bottle. "You let yourself get captured and be paraded around in handcuffs like a domesticated animal instead of being proud and choosing the bullet. You didn't even try to escape. We don't need your kind in the Khans."

"You don't have a fuckin' clue what my reasons are," Melissa spat at him. "And I suggest you tell your mongrels to get off me, and that you fuckin' pike off, and maybe, just maybe, you'll live longer than the end of next week."

"Like I said, Melissa. You're nobody." He shrugged off his backpack and reached into it. "And you're trash, not worthy to wear that ink." When his hand came out of his backpack, it was holding a metal tool that looked a bit like a puree masher, an iron rod with a flat grill fixed to it, but taped to the handle were batteries and wires. What the Hell?

"Are you fuckin' crazy?" Melissa roared. "How dare you take out that thing against me! Don't you fuckin' know who I am? You'll fuckin' pay for this! All of you!"

He came closer and flicked a switch on the puree masher's handle. Slowly, the grill began to glow a dull red. Oh my God, no.

"Melissa," En shouted, "leave her alone!" but no one paid attention to her, only the Khan behind her, who only tightened his grip on her shoulder in response.

"Hold her down!" the Khan leader said again as he approached with the masher, which now had a bright orange glow, and the heat coming off it distorted the air around it. Melissa kicked and thrashed furiously, but the three Khans had her under control. Bringing the glowing grill to inches of her face, Clive grinned wickedly and said, "I'm going to enjoy this."

Then he pressed the glowing hot grill down hard on the raging skull tattoo on Melissa's forearm. En could only watch, paralyzed, as the grill melted itself, sizzling and smoking, into the skin on Melissa's arm. Melissa writhed and shrieked as the flesh on her arm was seared into black, smoking burns. The stench of burned flesh filled the motel room, and then the world blurred as En's eyes filled with tears.

"Stop!" she shrieked. "Stop! Leave her alone!"

And the headache was suddenly there, pounding through her head as her ears shrieked and her vision overloaded, turning to bright white. She lost her strength and collapsed in the Khan's grip, but she felt him holding her up. "Shit," the Khan shouted. "This kid's having some kind of seizure! Clive!"

But the Khan boss simply lifted the glowing grill again, taking strings of molten flesh with it, and pressed it down on Melissa's other shoulder, burning away the skull tattoo there too. Melissa screamed again, her feet kicking. En found her strength again despite the pain and dizziness, struggled against the Khan's grip, but as she did so, his arm hooked around her throat, pulling her against him. For being so skinny and pasty, the guy had a lot of strength, and the arm held her back like an immovable vise. Melissa had gone limp, her eyes rolling back in her sockets as she'd half-fainted from the pain. It tore En's heart to see proud, strong Melissa so broken.

"Last one," Clive said huskily, clearly savouring the hurt he was doing. Roughly, he grabbed one of her mohawks and turned her head to the side. As he pressed the glowing grill against the tattoo on the side of her neck, Melissa could only let out a powerless, pitiful wheeze. En saw it all through blurred vision. Oh God, Melissa. If she'd known…

"Ah, shit," the Khan holding her legs cursed, his face disgusted. "She's fucking farting!"

"Be glad," Clive said, taking the grill off and panting with spent pleasure. "Last two times I did it, they shit and pissed their pants." He got off her and turned off the glowing grill, which still smoked from the molten flesh clinging to it, and stuck it in the bowl of water, where it sizzled and bubbled to back to cold metal. "Fainted dead away too, not like her. She's a tough one." The bastard actually managed to sound magnanimous when he gave her the dubious compliment.

"Please," En pleaded as Clive put the cooled grill away. "You did what you came here for, now please, just leave us alone."

The Khan leader's eyes went up at En. "You know what? I hate begging, snivelling wenches. So no, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I'm not done with you yet."

He strode over to her and En's heart began beating even faster than it had been before. Two of the Khans got off Melissa and came to flank their leader, trying to make intimidating faces.

"In fact," Clive growled low, bringing his face close to En's, "I've never had them this young before."

En's breath stalled in her throat.

"Whoa, Clive," the pasty Khan who held her protested. "Come on, man, let's not go there." His voice sounded whiny and pleading.

"Quit your bawlin', Jerry," Clive shut him up. "They hauled one of ours around in chains. They deserve everything they get."

En remained silent, her flurry of thoughts telling her that anything she said would only make it worse.

"Yeah, but Clive, but we already branded one of Papa's lieutenants. Papa doesn't – "

"Papa will understand why we did it, you fuckin' flower-sniffin' pussy," Clive countered, unperturbed. He briefly looked back at the mostly unconscious Melissa, held down by only one Khan anymore, and then back to Jerry. "And once he understands, who do you think will take this bulldyke's place, huh?"

"Come on, Clive."

The Khan boss ignored him, his eyes fixing back on En's. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

En wanted to struggle, to break free, to at least kick and scream furiously so they had to shoot her instead of… _this_, but her muscles didn't respond and all she could do was pant, scared to death.

"Now, little girl." He extended his hand and hooked the fingers around the neck of En's t-shirt. "Let's see those firm little kiddie boobs."

"Nguh… Leave her… leave her… alone!" Melissa slurred, still only half conscious, clawing at the air.

"Aww, what's the matter, Melissa?" Clive mocked. "Jealous? Sorry, but we'll settle for these perky ones instead of your ugly sagging bags."

"Clive," the pale Khan tried one last time, "I really think we should – "

The gun was out faster than anyone could respond, aiming past En's head and straight at the forehead of Jerry. "Shut up right now, asshole, or you've written your last poem."

Behind Clive, En saw a small red dot of light moving over the blankets of her bed and up between the Khan chief's legs. Whatever it was, whoever it was, En hoped he or she would pull that trigger _right__now_!

Clive leaned in toward her again. "I look forward to stretching out your tight little teenage p – "

With a loud roar, Melissa threw the remaining Khan off her and hurled her weight against Clive, pulling him to the ground, backwards over En's bed. At the same time, the motel room window shattered and a bullet impacted the wall, missing Clive's head and striking in between En and Jerry's heads. En smashed her elbow into Jerry's face, breaking his nose, and with a yelp, he let go. As if struck by an invisible force, the back of the head of one of the standing Khans exploded, and one second later, the other. Jerry was the third victim, shot through the throat, and as En threw herself to the ground, the Khan Melissa had thrown off her was shot between the shoulder blades.

Clive kicked the weakened Melissa off him and rose to his knees, holding his knife, ready to plunge it into Melissa's torso. But as he lifted his knife, he signed his own death warrant by sticking his head out above the bed, and with a flawless shot, the unknown sniper got him in the forehead, blasting his brains out. A clump of blood and tissue slapped against the chest of En's t-shirt with a wet splat. Clive dropped his knife and slowly fell over.

"Stay down," Melissa had the coherence to wheeze. "Don't know… who it is." A silence, and then, "fucking Clive." She lay on the other side of the bed, so En couldn't see how she was doing. It was a miracle that she could still move after such brutal torture. Poor Melissa.

Outside, footsteps could be heard on the walkway, coming towards the door. Where the Hell were Ringo and Sunny?

"You people okay?" a low voice came from the door. "It's alright, you're safe now."

There was no sound from Melissa, so En carefully peeped over the bed. There was a black man standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but a tank top and a pair of white-and-blue striped boxers. On his head was a hat that reminded En of the old Canadian police force, the ones mounted on horseback. He was holding an impressive-looking scoped hunting rifle with a laser sight taped to it. When he saw the top of En's head peeking over the bed like a curious toddler, he ticked the rim of his hat and introduced himself. "Name's Andy, miss. Former Ranger with the NCR." He looked over the bodies of the dead Khans. "I'm… sorry you had to see this."

"It's uh… alright. Glad we're still alive to see it, I suppose."

He chuckled briefly. "Got that right." After looking over the room, he remarked. "Damn Khans."

En clumsily got to her feet and climbed over the bed. "Melissa?"

She'd passed out, but she was breathing. The burns on her neck and arms were bright red, palm-sized ruins ringed with blackened, charred skin, thin trails of smoke still coming off them. No wonder she'd fainted. "Can you, um… could you please go get the doctor? I'm sorry to impose, but – "

The ranger-in-boxers spread his hands. "Not at all. Be right back." And with that, he left, slowed down by an obvious limp.

Shit, Ringo and Sunny. "Melissa? I'm going to leave you alone, just for a while, okay? I need to check on Sunny and Ringo."

She jumped to her feet and ran to the other room, her bare feet pattering on the walkway. The door was still closed, but a gas tank stood by it, a small rubber hose leading to the crack beneath the door. Shit! En tore the little hose out and pushed the gas tank over, then tore the door open. Three shapes lay in the dimly-lit room, two on the bed and a smaller one at the foot end. She flicked on the light and with a shaking voice called, "Sunny! Ringo!"

There was no response. Fuck, they weren't dead were they? She threw herself on the bed and pressed two fingers against Sunny's carotid, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a pulse. Ringo was still alive too, and when she felt her head becoming lighter, she realized it had been sleeping gas. She had no idea why they'd used sleeping gas instead of just cutting their throats in their sleep, but she guessed it was simply to be able to torture them when they were done with her and Melissa. She left the door open to ventilate, then went back to check on Melissa.

"What the Hell's happened here?" the doctor they'd bought stimpaks from a day ago exclaimed, standing in the doorway, dumbfounded by all the blood and corpses. Her graying brown hair was dishevelled, and the fly of her pants was open, as were her bootlaces.

"I'll explain later, Ada," Andy, the NCR Ranger, said, shouldering past her and standing above Melissa's head. "Young lady, you get her legs and then we're lifting her on the bed. Ready?"

"Whoa, easy!" the doctor stopped them. "She might have vertebral damage."

"She doesn't," En said quietly, taking Melissa's feet, wrapped in their stinky, worn black socks. "It's alright."

"Okay," the Ranger said with a nod at En. "One, two, _three_."

The doctor sat down on the bed next to Melissa.

"Is it bad, doctor?" En asked, sounding horribly whiny to her own ears.

Patiently, the doctor said, "I'll see if you give me a minute."

"But – "

"Come on." Andy the Ranger gently took her by the shoulder and sat her down on her own bed. "Meanwhile, you can tell me what happened."

"Hold on." En took the blanket and threw it over her shoulders, wrapping herself in it. She was uncomfortably cold, and just as uncomfortably aware that her nipples were poking through her shirt. "They uh… were here because they couldn't… deal with the fact that Melissa wanted to help us find someone." It was a bit of a lie, but the whole explanation would take too long, and in the end, the essence of the story was just about that. "So they… they burned her Khan tattoos off her and th… they wanted to… well, you know."

"M-hm," the Ranger nodded gravely, sitting down next to her. "Good thing I sleep just below, and those fools wore boots that could wake a dead man if you stomp 'em on the ground."

En nodded, still shaking. "Th… Thank you for saving us."

Andy smiled broadly, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder. "That's quite alright. We're here to serve."

"Still. If you hadn't shown up – "

"But I did," he stopped her gently, "and that's what matters. You're safe now, so try to settle down a little."

"If there's anything we c – "

"They're serious burns," the doctor interrupted, "but nothing life-threatening. I've injected a stimpak and given her one of my very own atomic cocktails. They'll stop the heat from digging deeper inside the skin."

"Digging deeper?" En asked.

"M-hm. Burn wounds don't just stop when the heat source is gone. They continue to burn their way deeper unless they're cooled. Which is why you should always keep them under a stream of water before doing anything else, or if you're lucky, have me around to administer drugs that have the same effect."

"Oh."

"Now, the stimpak will accelerate the healing, so she'll be able to move around tomorrow if she gets some more rest tonight, but no crazy stuff. No fighting or pole-vaulting."

En nodded. "We'll tie her to the bed if need be."

"Good. They'll be ugly scars, but with all the ones she has already, I'm sure she won't be too bothered by them." Ouch, nice and blunt. She dug in her bag and tossed En a strange syringe that had a crank instead of a plunger. "This is a strong military drug," the doctor told En. "If she's in pain, inject this into a vein. _No__more_ than one half-turn of the crank per day, alright? It's terribly addictive, and it can do a number on your liver and your kidneys if you take too much."

The ranger whistled through his teeth. "Psycho, isn't it? That's some strong stuff. Not exactly the kind of thing a doctor carries."

She only shrugged and said, "Everyone needs a doctor at times, and sometimes for relieving other things than pain from wounds."

"Fair enough," Andy dropped the subject, turning back to En. "But I would advise against using that crap unless it's _really_ necessary."

"I'm uh… sure Melissa will be fine without drugs. She's tougher than ten of me put together." But she still placed the hypo on the night stand.

Andy nodded. "She sure looks that way. I see what happened now. Standard Khan expulsion rite, branding the tattoos off, crazy bastards. But in the long run, she'll be better off. Code of honour or not, getting kicked out means living longer. Khans are a bunch of low-life-expectancy thugs anyway."

En looked around the room. "These definitely were." Too bad for the pale, scrawny kid that had tried to stop Clive, but honestly, she couldn't bring herself to care. He lay on the ground, next to En's bed, bled out from a round through the throat, or choked on his own blood maybe. En hoped there were still other rooms available. Not that that was the most important thing right now. But still.

"Good thing is," the doctor continued, applying disinfectant to the burns, "she was burned on bare skin, so no fabric molten into the wounds." She covered the burns with gauze and taped it in place. "As long as we keep infections out of it, it should heal okay."

When Melissa half-opened her eyes and garbled inarticulately, the doctor said in a caring, motherly voice, "Hello there. You holding up?"

"Takes more… than a bunch… of mongrels with… a brandin' iron to… faze me."

"Well, that's good to hear," the doctor said with a smile. "You'll be a bit woozy from the meds, but that'll go away."

"You okay, Melissa?" En asked, still concerned despite the doc's encouraging words.

Melissa feebly lifted an arm and stuck a thumb in the air. "You?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Are you in a lot of pain?"

A brief, weak grin came on Melissa's face. "Stupid… question there. But… I'll live."

"Well," Ranger Andy conceded. "Say what you will about Khans, but they sure are tough."

"This one especially," En agreed. "Hey, mister Andy, if there's anything we can do to repay you for saving our butts, then just – "

The ranger laughed. "Miss, that's quite alright." But then he checked, thought for a moment, and said, "Actually, there is something you could help me with."

"Sure, whatever you need."

"You may've noticed I'm walking with a… rather obvious limp?"

"Can't say I have," En lied.

Andy chuckled. "Sure you did. Anyway, I've been meaning to check on my old comrades at Ranger Station Charlie, but they haven't been responding to my radio calls today. It could just be a technical problem, but I'd appreciate it if someone would hike on over there and check in on them." He pointed apologetically at his knee. "My bum leg's stopping me from going over there myself."

Right, just a quick trip back and forth, no problem. "Sure, absolutely. We'll head over there tomorrow." It meant losing time to catch up to checkers-man, but this guy had saved her life, and probably those of Melissa, Sunny and Ringo as well. Cheyenne, too. So they owed it to him to make that short trip, at the very least.

"I appreciate it, missy." He stood up. "I'll leave you to it then. I think the room next door's empty since this evening, so you might wanna move there. And since Jeanie May got her clogs popped, nobody will mind."

"Hey, miss En? What the Hell is our door doing wide open? Did you – " Ringo's eyes went wide when he saw the dead bodies, ailing Melissa, and the doctor applying the last of her aid. "What the Hell's happened here?"

"I'll explain tomorrow," En said wearily. "Melissa's Khan friends paid us a visit. It's safe now, though. You can go back to sleep, but ventilate the room first."

"Miss En, I can't just go back to sleep after all _this_." He extended his hand at the room and its mixed dead-and-alive occupants.

"Then just stay with Sunny to make sure she's safe, okay?" Ha, masterful move.

With a frown that betrayed some concern, he looked over at Melissa. "Our fiery people puncher alright?"

"She will be," En assured. "Needs to rest now. We all do."

Ringo seemed entirely unsatisfied, but he retreated back to the door.

"Oh, by the way?" En said.

"Mm?"

"Congratulations. You know, on you two."

He grinned. "Yeah, thanks."

"Bout time."

After the doctor and ranger had left, En moved her bag to the other room. Melissa had fallen asleep again, and En figured she'd prefer sleeping in a room with a bunch of dead guys over having to get up and walk to the room next door with screaming burns tearing and oozing with every step. Not like Melissa would mind a few corpses and splatters of brain against the wall anyway.

She threw her brain-splattered T-shirt off (looks like the guy had managed to touch her tits after all, har-har) and crawled under the blankets of the other room. They still smelled of their previous occupant, probably the dude in the trench coat that sniper guy had walked off with yesterday. And something itched against her ears and cheeks, something like bits of dried grass, and she was too tired to make the bed again. Not exactly pleasant, but a manly smell was preferable to a room full of dead dudes. Two empty whiskey bottles were thrown in the corner and on the floor next to the bed was a used condom, looking like a squashed, translucent slug bleeding white fluid. Still sticky. Ugh, disgusting.

Wait a minute. The things that itched in the pillow case were fibres of straw. Whiskey bottles, straw in the pillow case. En was probably exaggerating the power of coincidence, but what if those straw fibres had come from a hat? You know, that hadn't been taken off yet when its owner ended up in the bed, probably due to an intense need for lovemaking. En didn't figure there were that many people in the Mojave that wore silly straw hats and drank whiskey like it was water.

She jumped out of the bed and pulled the sheets and mattress cover off, using them to snatch up the condom without making her hands dirty, and throwing the lot into the corner, then opening the cupboard that held the reserves. After making the bed, she groaned and crawled under the blankets again. Her head ached. It always did. Between that and the discomfort down below, she felt like cutting off everything above the neck and below the navel so it'd stop hurting, and walk around on her arms as a headless, legless horror for the rest of her life and frighten her neighbours. It'd be awesome.

She hoped Melissa would be alright. Despite all her badass behaviour, what had happened to her today must have been awful. Getting ejected from the gang she'd fought so hard to be a part of, getting burned like that… And even then, she'd had the power to throw that one guy off her and launch herself at that Clive bastard to stop him from… well…

They had all misjudged Melissa, even En herself, even though she'd known from the start that Melissa was a good person, deep down. No one had expected she'd be that protective of the girl whose execution she'd once been a part of. Yes, it was probably to redeem herself, but that couldn't be the only reason. Fact w as, she was a good person in her heart, and no amount of tattoos, crazy haircuts or mean behaviour could change that. And who knows, maybe she'd realized that by staying with En and her friends, she might have found an opportunity to be herself again, even if she didn't know it yet.

As En fell asleep, she made a mental note that Melissa deserved a big-ass hug.


	18. Trail of Blood

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**EIGHTEEN**

**Novac, Motel Room**

**July 2nd**

**07:34**

Good morning, headache. So glad to find you're still here.

What the Hell had happened last night again… right, the thing with Melissa and the other Khans. That NCR ranger had shot them all, blowing their brains across the room, which is why she wasn't wearing her T-shirt. That was beyond washing, the rats could nibble at it for all she cared. She shouldn't really have left Melissa alone in there, but sleeping in a hotel room that looked like an abattoir, no thank you. Plus, she'd be alright. They'd draped the blankets over her to keep her from getting too cold, and dropped the shutters of the window so the cold didn't get in too much. She'd be fine.

Still, she ought to check. She leaned out of the bed, pulling her backpack closer, and took out a bra and fresh T-shirt. Switching panties could wait. After hitching up her jeans and stepping into her boots, she went to check on Melissa.

"Is that a little teenager with perky kiddie boobs I see in the door opening?" Melissa croaked in the darkness. Hm, she still had her sense of humour, so that was a good sign, even if her jokes were off colour.

"Hey Melissa, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

En knew she was just being tough, but she figured it'd be better to humour her than to start acting all concerned. People like Melissa tended to get insulted when people did that. "Think you'll be able to prance around today?"

There was a grunt, and then, "Yeah, just don't ask me to dive to the bottom of a volcano crater filled with lava. Not today."

En felt around in the dark and sat down on Melissa's bed, almost stumbling over a dead Khan leg in the process. "And how's things inside your head?"

Melissa sighed in the darkness. "Don't worry 'bout that, alright?"

"I do worry about that."

A short silence. "I was kicked out of the Khans. You can't imagine how that makes me feel."

"But I mean, it's like you said, that guy had no authority, right? Your tattoos are gone, but does that mean – "

"Yes, it means. Even if Papa didn't approve of it, you can be sure Clive's sent someone to Red Rock Canyon to explain why he was about to do what he did. It'll have been lies, of course, but that won't matter. Appearances are against me."

"Maybe we can go and expl – "

"No." A sigh. "No, jillaroo. That part of my life is over. Looks like I'll have no choice but to tag along with you guys. Your friends must be gloating like mad."

En shook her head. "No, Melissa, they're not. When Ringo saw you, the first thing he asked was if you were alright."

"Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm getting what I deserve."

God dammit. En sympathized with her, but that didn't mean she had to be okay with Melissa seeing their time together as a sort of punishment. "Melissa, staying with us might work out much better than you think. To be honest… I'm getting a bit tired of you acting like you don't like us."

"It's not that I don't like you, it's just…" her voice began to tremble. "The Khans were my _life_, En. They were everything I had. The only place where I meant something. And now…" She sniffed loudly.

"Hey, come on."

"Now I'm a fuckin' nobody." She sobbed hard, then said, "Please, just leave me alone for a bit."

En got up. "Fine." Even though she didn't like it, she respected Melissa's wish to be left alone. "Here's the key to the room next door. If you're up to it, you can always go sleep there. Less blood and brains and all. The bed will smell of me, but that won't kill you, will it?"

"Not at all."

"Alright, I'll let you be alone now. We're going to check on that ranger station and then we'll be back. You rest."

"How is she?" En almost bumped straight into Sunny, who was standing just outside the door. Cheyenne sat next to her, looking up at En cheerfully.

"Uh… okay. Well, considering the circumstances."

"Ringo told me what happened to her. Shit, that's just…" she shook her head and gnawed at her lip, looking away.

"Yeah. It is. Best leave her alone for a while though."

"Right. So, are you finally going to tell us exactly what the Hell happened in there?"

Sunny and Ringo listened intently to En's relation of the events. She'd left out the more perverted (and unnecessary) bits of the story, but even then Sunny was fuming by the time she was through. Her hands balled into fists, she growled, "I wish I could have killed them all with my bare hands."

"Well, that ranger guy bailed us out, so it turned out alright in the end. Apart from Melissa's complexion."

"I hate myself for falling asleep like a useless dumbass," Sunny snapped, leaping off the bed and pacing about the room.

"So do I, Sunny," Ringo calmed her down, "but it's not like it's our fault. They hit us while we slept."

"Still. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you and I didn't stop it."

"En can take care of herself, Sunny."

She shook her head. "It's my job to make sure you're safe, En. You're my li… you're my friend, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"And I always will be, Sunny," En said calmly. "But you can't ward off every danger. You can't be in control all the time."

Ringo nodded. "It's important that you find a way to let go of this need for control, Sunny."

"Look, I just don't like my friends being in danger. Now, we heading to Boulder City today, or what?"

"Yeah, um, we need to make a little detour first," En said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we've been asked to check in on a ranger station nearby. They haven't been responding to radio calls, and the ranger who saved our skins asked us to go around for a quick look."

Sunny shrugged. "Oh. Sure, I guess."

"Assisting that ranger would be the right thing to do, indeed," Ringo agreed. "Where is it, exactly?"

"Ranger station Charlie. Andy marked it on my Pip-boy."

Sunny got up and shrugged her backpack on. "Let's go then. The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can get to Boulder City and find that cross-eyed shooting prodigy of yours."

"We should go see the rancher first," Ringo said.

Dang, she'd forgotten all about that, as if the night-time incident had pushed all the memories of Melissa and her staking out the ranch on their little ridge right into the freezer. That ranching guy would probably want to know what happened, and they were still due a reward from their after-dark shoot-out.

"Well, howdy!" an excited Dusty McBride called out when he saw En and her friends approaching. Heard some shootin' during the night. Assume that dead super mutant is your work?"

"Heh, yeah," En admitted, a little embarrassed, while Ringo trudged to the end of the brahmin enclosure to pick up the rusty machine gun.

"Any idea why he was shootin' my animals?"

"Nope. Guess it was just a psycho."

"Well, at any rate, here's your three hundred, doll. Thanks for sortin' that out for me." He held out a bag of caps. "Oh, and I'll have a few big juicy brahmin steaks delivered to your motel room tonight, how's that sound?"

Before En could answer, Sunny blurted out, "Steaks, yes please!"

With a grin, Ringo said, "Well, looks like Sunny's on board with the idea."

En smiled. "We'll be looking forward to your um... big and juicy delivery."

"Alright, take care now."

The ranger station wasn't that far off, but the few kilometres would have been Hell on the old ranger's knee, whatever it was that was wrong with it, so it was probably best if he didn't try to take the journey himself. Sunny and Ringo walked hand in hand, both looking cheerful despite Sunny's bit of frustration earlier. En was more than happy for them. With any luck, Ringo's cool-headedness would rub off on Sunny, and her influence could make him a little less emotionally bottled-up. Cheyenne trotted along next to the happy couple, panting cheerfully.

A quiet beep alerted En that they were getting close to Charlie. "Guys, it should be around this hill."

Ringo nodded and took out his Sig. "We're not expecting altercations, but we should be prepared regardless."

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Might be a technical problem, but a unit no longer responding is always suspicious."

En joined the rest in readying their weapons, taking her XM-21 off her back.

The ranger station became visible as they came around the hill, two buildings in the middle of a small collection of old caravans surrounded by Heras fencing, fibre cement plates, and other bricolage that looked like it tried very hard to be a wall. The gate was wide open, and that didn't foretell much good.

"Careful," Ringo advised redundantly. "Gate's open."

"We'll go in," Sunny told En as she buckled Cheyenne's leash to her belt to keep both hands free. "You stay out here and cover us." When En opened her mouth to protest, Sunny cut her off. "No discussion."

"The fallen pylon there will give you a nice vantage point," Ringo said, pointing at the knocked-down iron lattice tower.

It didn't sit right with En to let Ringo and Sunny do the dangerous work, but Sunny smiled and said, "Go on, it'll be okay."

After a short hesitation, she ran to the transmission tower and climbed up on it. It was kinda like monkey bars at school, long ago. She found a nice spot where a bent bar produced something of a chair, and sat down precariously on it, looking through the scope of her XM-21. She could see over the wall, and didn't detect any movement.

Ringo and Sunny carefully approached the wall, keeping to both sides of the fence. After nodding at each other, they spun around and swept their guns across the station, and then slowly crept forward, Cheyenne pulling at her leash. After a few tense seconds, Ringo turned and waved at En to come on down.

She lithely leapt down from the pylon and darted to the station's courtyard, where Sunny, Ringo and Cheyenne stood waiting. "And?"

Ringo shook his head. "No one here. Maybe inside the buildings."

"You two take the one on the left," Sunny told them, unbuckling Cheyenne's leash. "Me and Cheyenne'll search the other one."

It wasn't like Sunny to suggest anything else than teaming up with En 'for her safety', so maybe she'd taken En's and Ringo's advice to heart.

En and Ringo hustled to the building, Ringo taking position on one side of the door, like in old movies. En supposed he knew what he was doing, and mimicked him, taking out the Beretta and taking the other side.

"After me," Ringo whispered, and ducked into the doorway, sweeping his gun across the room. En followed him, but it was clear there was no one in there. No one left alive, at least.

"Shit, bad news for ranger Andy," En muttered.

"Quite."

The building they were in was a small office with some cells adjacent to it. Two NCR troopers lay dead in the office, two others had been killed in the cell corridor. Of the two in the office, the female trooper was killed by a blast of buckshot to the back, while the male had been hacked at with a sharp weapon and subsequently beheaded, his head placed on his back, the face slack and awful to look at, making En turn her head away. "Geez, why do people do this to each other?"

"I… don't know," Ringo said hoarsely. "But I'm pretty sure I know who it was." He pointed at the ground, where a bloodied, rusted machete was dropped. "Typical Legion weapon. Best not touch these bodies."

"Figures it'd be those fuckers."

"Indeed." He placed a hand on his heart. "The sacrifice of these brave men and women must not be forgotten."

En didn't know what to say to that. "I'll go see if Sunny's found any survivors."

Back in the courtyard, she called out to Sunny, who hollered back, "All dead in here. Be right there, just gonna take the dog tags off these guys so we can at least give those to that ranger guy."

"Oh. Okay," En said casually, her hands in her pockets.

"What's she doing?" Ringo asked, emerging from the office too.

"Said she'd take the dog tags off those guys. Maybe we should do the same?"

"No, best not. Sunny! Don't touch anything, alright?" he called out.

Sunny's voice came back. "I'll be fine, I just gotta – " a _beep_ sounded inside the building, audible out to the courtyard, followed immediately by Sunny's panicked voice, "SHIT!"

Before En or Ringo realized what happened, a loud blast went off inside the building.

"Sunny?" Ringo shouted. "_Sunny_?"

They both broke into a run, and as they dashed for the building, they could hear Sunny's voice, first a dazed "Uuhh," then a surprised and pained "Aah!" and finally a screaming, hysterical "rrrraaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Sunny lay sprawled on the ground, her arms flailing, slapping and pounding the ground in agony.

"Sunny… Sunny, oh God Sunny," En breathed as she realized why Sunny was screaming so loudly.

She'd been thrown back by the blast of an explosive that had been planted underneath the body of an NCR trooper, now unrecognizably blown apart. The body had taken the brunt of the explosion, but not the whole of it. Both Sunny's legs were shredded, looking like a mess of strips of jeans, bright red flesh, and here and there some tanned skin ripped off the bone. The jeans were no longer blue, but black from the blood they'd sucked up. Her upper body was undamaged, but the ruins of her legs were bleeding so rapidly a red pool was quickly spreading beneath her. All the while, she was screaming and thrashing. "Sunny, Sunny, oh God," was all En could breathe as she kneeled down next to her before Ringo roughly shouldered her away, knocking her over. Cheyenne had miraculously survived the blast mostly unscathed, at least, that's the way it looked. Whining, she lay down next to Sunny and started nudging her face, uncaring about the blows Sunny unwittingly dealt her in her flailing hysteria.

"No time for whimpering," Ringo snapped, taking hold of her backpack and pulling it, En and all, closer to him. He stuck his hand in En's pack and tore out a stimpak, jamming the needle in the side of Sunny's throat in the same motion. In seconds, Sunny's hysterical cries lessened to panicked moaning.

"Sunny, can you hear me?"

Her hand shot out and she grabbed Ringo by the upper arm. Her forehead was beaded with sweat. "My legs… my luh…"

"I know. Hold on, Sunny, we're not letting you go."

En could do nothing more than take hold of Sunny's other hand. "Hurts… so bad."

"You still have that psycho?" Ringo rapped at her.

As quickly as she could, En turned over her backpack and pulled the hypo package out of her stuff. Ringo snatched it out of her hand, stuck the needle in the same place he'd stuck the stimpak, and turned the crank a full circle. Sunny let out a loud "Nnnngh!" and tensed up, then went limp and fell silent, breathing hard.

Ringo leapt to his feet, said, "I'm going to get a doctor. Stay right here." And without another word, he sprinted out of the building.

"En…" Sunny breathed, her hand snaking out to find En's again. "Sweetie… I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

Sunny's mouth moved but it took a few seconds before she could speak. "I… screwed up. You'll have to… go on without me."

No, this couldn't be happening. God dammit, this couldn't be happening! Tears filled En's eyes, blurring her vision. "Sunny, no, you're staying here with us. Don't you dare leave us alone!" Cheyenne curled up next to Sunny, and Sunny unconsciously wrapped her arm around her dog.

"It's… okay," she wheezed, managing a feeble smile. "You've… got… Melissa to protect… you now."

"You're _both_ gonna protect me, you hear that?" En cried, tears running down her cheeks.

"I really did… wish I had a little sister… like you."

"Sunny! Sunny don't die, please don't die!" En babbled, pressing Sunny's hand against her face.

Sunny's eyes began slowly rolling in their sockets. "I would have been... a great big sister... to you, right?"

"I couldn't wish for anyone better Sunny, but you're not gonna die! Listen to me, you're not gonna die! You're not leaving me, and Ringo and Cheyenne out here alone! Don't you dare!"

Sunny smiled again as her eyelids slowly lowered. "Hope I was… at least a bit useful."

"Sunny, stay with me!"

The door to the building flew open and Ringo stormed in, the doctor from Novac right behind him, out of breath and with sweat soaking her white T-shirt. En didn't even stop to wonder how they'd gotten back here this fast.

"I'll be damned, you again?" the doctor asked, perplexed. "What have you been up to th – "

"Doctor!" Ringo snapped. "Help Sunny, she's dying for God's sake!"

"Right, right, sorry." She dropped her medical bag next to Sunny, who looked like she'd started drifting away. Her lips were slowly turning blue.

"She's going into shock," the doctor said, taking out a blood bag from her medical kit, tearing the tape off the needle and telling En to, "Roll up her sleeve!"

En did as she was told, letting go of Sunny's hand. "Hold on, Sunny, just a little longer, the doctor's here."

Sunny's jaw went up and down a few times, but she didn't speak and her breath slowed.

"Hurry it up," the doctor snapped, and as soon as En had rolled the sleeve away from the crook of Sunny's elbow, the woman roughly slapped and rubbed Sunny's arm and thrust the needle into the vein she'd made visible. Then she turned a small knob on the blood bag, and with a beep, the thing slowly began emptying itself into Sunny's vein.

"What'd you give her?" she asked Ringo.

"Stimpak and a dose of psycho."

"M-hm. Should stop the bleeding for now. You, girl, get me that first aid box on the wall."

En robotically got up and pulled the first aid kit off the wall. Meanwhile, the doctor had started cutting away the strips of Sunny's jeans. Seeing the ruin underneath them made En look away in tears. The muscles in Sunny's calves were torn to bloody shreds, and deep gashes went all the way to above her knees. Her boots were solid and steel-toed, and looked like they'd actually withstood the blast. But her legs, they were just… torn apart. Poor Sunny.

"Take out all the bandages there are."

En did so, and gave the bandages to the doctor, who promptly began bandaging Sunny's legs, lifting them up without much gentleness. "Good," she said to En. "You can go back to holding her hand. Help her through this. You too."

Ringo kneeled down and took the hand Sunny had lain on Cheyenne's side without taking her arm off the dog.

"Ring…o?"

"I'm right here, Sunny."

Here eyes had closed. "I'm glad we… had last night."

Ringo's eyes teared up. "So am I, Sunny. But we'll have many more, right?"

Sunny didn't respond anymore.

"Sunny?" Both Ringo and En asked simultaneously, the same panic in their voice.

"It's alright," the doctor said, "no reason for alarm. She's going under from the meds I've given her." The bandages of the first aid kit had been enough to wrap one leg, and the doctor's own supply took care of the other. The white quickly became red, but she wasn't bleeding anywhere near as badly as before. _Hold__on,__Sunny_, En thought, as hard as she could. Ringo was doubtless doing the same.

The doctor sat down on her backside and sighed. "I've done all I can for now. Good thing you gave her the stim and the psycho right away. Could've killed her instantly, but if you hadn't done anything, you'd have lost her, guaranteed." She wiped the sweat from her brow. It must have been a heart-exploding run for the middle-aged doctor. How the Hell had they gotten here so fast?

Without knowing it, the doctor answered the question before En had asked it. "But this happening just when I was passing by on the way to my chem supplier, you have no idea what an extraordinary coincidence that is."

Ringo grinned despite his anxiousness. "That's miss En. She has more luck than all the Irish put together. She got shot in the head and she still lucked out."

"Ah," the doctor exclaimed. "Hence the…" she pointed at her own head. "That's alright, it adds character."

En smiled uncomfortably. "Exactly what I think."

"I'm Ringo, and this is En, by the way."

"Yes, your friend and I have met yesterday. But I've been rude, I'm doctor Ada Strauss. I'm sure it'd be a pleasure under different circumstances. Now, let's get your friend back to Novac so I can keep an eye on her. My chem dealer can wait." She scratched Cheyenne under the chin.

"How do we uh…" En asked.

"We'd need some kind of a stretcher."

As if her panic and fear had suddenly cleared away, En came up with an idea. Always if there were things to be assembled, tinkered with, invented, or whatever, En's mind stopped being a jumble of incoherent thoughts and became perfectly clear. She got up and pulled her screw driver out of her tool belt. "Hold on, I'll go get one. You stay with Sunny."

She hugged the wall of the other building, taking care to avoid the bodies or anything else which could be a booby-trap, and went into one of the cells, unscrewing the collapsible bed. It was heavier than a stretcher, but the head and foot ends had iron bars on them that could be easily used as handles. Lifting the bed up and carrying it out, she went back to the other building and laid the bed down next to Sunny. "Here we go. Improvised stretcher."

"Lovely," doctor Strauss said. "I hope you won't mind if I let you do the lifting?"

"Not at all," Ringo answered. "I'll take the head end, miss En."

They carefully lifted Sunny and laid her on the stretcher, then lifted it up and began the walk back to Novac.

Ringo was grimly silent as he walked in front of En, his knuckles white as he held onto the handle of the quasi-stretcher. She occasionally looked down at Sunny's, her eyes closed and her face relaxed, looking asleep as her head rocked with the movements of the stretcher. Poor Sunny. The doctor was busily wiping her forehead with her handkerchief, but En couldn't just walk the entire way in silence. "So uh… doctor, do you think she'll be okay?"

Strauss thought for a minute. "Hard to say, dear. If she gets proper medical treatment, there's a good chance she'll pull through, but…"

"But?"

She hesitated. "Well, her legs… I don't think I can do much about those. I mean, to fix them."

"She'll… she'll still be able to walk, right?" A sinking feeling settled in En's stomach. She hadn't even thought about that yet. What if Sunny survived, but her legs were too damaged and she couldn't walk again? She didn't want to think about that but the thought didn't want to go away! It'd be her fault, really. If she'd said fuck it all and gone back home, this wouldn't have happened.

"I don't know, dear," Strauss said with a sigh. "I'm a doctor, not a surgeon, I can't reconstruct limbs or muscles or anything of the sort."

"Anyone who can?" Ringo asked, still cool-headed and pragmatic despite the situation.

"I've heard of this Oosa... something doctor who's supposed to be quite good?" En added hopefully.

The leaden feeling in En's stomach got heavier as the doctor shook her head. "Dr. Usanagi? She's a great doctor, exemplary even, but again, not a surgeon. I... don't think there's anyone, miss. Maybe, if you had an Auto-Doc, you could. But as far as I know, there's none to be found around here."

"God _damn_ it," En cursed.

"Alright, stay calm," Ringo said. "Someone will know where we can find one. Sunny's going to walk again even if we have to go all the way to New Arroyo with this stretcher."

"You'll need to find one closer to here," Strauss told them. "Auto-Docs can reconstruct, but if you take too long, necrosis will set in on the damaged tissue and there'll be nothing anyone or anything can do."

All this bad news made tears stand in En's eyes, and all she could do was look up at the hard, unforgiving blue sky.

"Alright, alright," Ringo still refused to accept the situation. "We just have to stick our heads together and come up with something. _Someone_ will know where there's an Auto-Doc to be found."

"I hope so," En could only say quietly. Cheyenned arf'ed at her, sounding remarkably cheerful. En hoped the dog possessed some supernatural foresight and was trying to reassure her it'd all turn out fine.

Novac came in sight, and with it, probably the final nail in the coffin of Sunny's walking life. No one would know where to go and find an Auto-Doc and they'd have to find a way for Sunny to get around, probably involving a crying En building a wheelchair out of scrap parts.

"Hey," Ringo called out to her, his head turned.

"Mm?"

"Don't get all glum, okay? We need to keep our chins up. If one of us falls apart now, we'll all give up. Where there's life, there's hope. So come on, no matter how small the chance, we need to believe in it."

He was right, of course, but it was easier said than done. What were the odds that there'd be an Auto-Doc near Novac that the town doctor didn't know about? Fucking zero, that's what.

They'd finally reached Novac, after a walk which felt much longer than it was, and they put Sunny to bed in the dark room that trenchcoated man had slept in. She was still under, looking peacefully asleep. En hoped she felt as painless as she looked.

"Now, we can't waste time. We need to know where we can find an Auto-Doc, and when we do, we need to take off immediately."

"_If_we do, you mean," En said without thinking.

"What did I say about giving up?" Ringo snapped. "I need you with me on this, miss En."

"Right, right."

"Huh," a familiar voice came from the doorway. "Thought I heard somethin'. When'd you guys get back?"

"Just now."

Melissa clicked on the light. "Had fun explorin' the... what in the shits happened to Sunny?"

"She stepped on a mine," Ringo said calmly. "More questions?"

Part of En had expected Melissa to shrug and walk out, but she came to stand next to the bed, and with a pained face, asked, "Anything I can do?"

"Know where we can find an Auto-Doc around here?" Ringo asked, not even looking at her.

"Uh... no."

"Then no."

"So uh... what do we do now?" En asked.

Irritated, Ringo told her, "You two are going to go around town and look for someone who knows where we can find an Auto-Doc, that's what, god dammit! I'm staying here with Sunny for now. Get going!"

En supposed it was perfectly alright for Ringo to lose his cool after keeping a level head for so long. "Okay. We'll let you know what we find."

"Yeah."

"I can't leave you children alone for a moment, can I?" Melissa asked, trying to keep spirits high when they emerged into the afternoon sun. "I turn my back for one second, and this happens." She looked a bit better than the night before, her burns still covered in big white patches, but the colour had returned to her face, and apparently her good cheer too.

"I know. I feel like shit."

She shrugged. "Feelin' like shit won't help anyone. Lookin' for an Auto-Doc will. So let's get goin'."

She was right. As difficult as it was, they had to deal with the situation instead of sighing. "Where do we look?"

Melissa thought for a second. "Much as I hate the NCR, and I really do _hate_ them, that Ranger Andy's been all over the place. He might have an idea."

She should ask her sometime what all this NCR-hate was about, since it was probably much more than conflicting ideologies, but now wasn't the time. "Ranger Andy, yeah, good thinking."

"And if he can't point us to the right direction, at least he can go sit with Sunny and they can exchange bum leg stories."

"Melissa, come on."

Melissa slapped her hard on the shoulder. "Come on, jillaroo, positive thinking yeah?"

"Right. How's the burns?"

She only shrugged and said, "I'll live." She was probably in far more pain than she wanted to admit. She really was indestructible.

They rapped on the door of Ranger Andy's motel room, and after a few seconds, the door opened. Andy didn't look at all like he had the night before. His yellowed tank top and frayed boxers were replaced by an impressive-looking brown plastic-like armour, that looked like it consisted of overlapping plates. En was pretty sure it was some kind of composite, because no one would wear armour made out of plastic unless they were foot soldiers with poor aim in some evil empire's army. A black two-headed bear in a yellow shield was emblazoned on the chest.

"Ladies. Feeling better? Come on in, I was just makin' coffee." He was already holding a mug in his hand.

The prospect of a cup of coffee and a breather sounded wonderful. "Yeah, I could use a cup of - " En began, but she was cut off by Melissa tugging at her sleeve. "Nevermind, sorry, we don't really have time."

"That's alright. So what can I do for you?"

"We wanted to say thank you again for last night, for starters. You saved our pretty butts."

He waved, embarrassed. "That's alright."

"Know where we can find an Auto-Doc?" Melissa asked abruptly. "We need one as soon as possible."

Andy frowned. "Someone hurt?"

"Yeah," En said. "We uh... went to check out that Ranger Station you asked us to take a look at. And, well... everyone was dead. I'm sorry."

Andy sighed and looked into his coffee cup. "They were brave men and women. Let me guess, Legion?"

"Probably, yeah."

"Bastards. Did you bring back their dog tags?"

"Um," En said, feeling guilty. "No, we didn't. Sunny tried to get them, but they'd... rigged the bodies with explosives. Blew her..." she felt her voice tremble, but she didn't break off. "... legs to shreds."

"Geez. I'm sorry to hear that. God damn Legion bastards should all be lined up against a wall and shot." He sighed. "What happened to your friend is partly my fault. Legion fuckers tend to booby trap bodies to blow up when someone tries to get their comrades' dog tags. As if just killing people isn't enough."

"Anyway," Melissa took over, "one of our friends got hurt real bad and we need to find an Auto-Doc."

En was annoyed at Melissa's insensitivity, but then again, Khans and NCR were age-old enemies apparently, so she supposed it was only human.

Despite his sadness and dislike of Melissa, Andy stayed helpful. "I seem to remember the old NCRCF having one."

Shit, she'd heard the term NCRCF before, but where?

"Alright," Melissa said, unfriendly, taking her by the sleeve and pulling her away from the door. "Let's go, En."

"Um," En stammered as Melissa dragged her away. "Thanks a lot, Andy."

He nodded gravely. "It's all good."

"Geez, Melissa," En snapped at the woman dragging her away. "This guy saved our asses, remember?"

"Yeah. An' now we've repaid him by letting Sunny's legs get blown off. No more debt. No more need to be nice. Now let's go find that Auto-Doc."

En didn't feel like arguing more, so she dropped it, shaking her sleeve free from Melissa's grip. "What's NCRCF again?"

Melissa rolled her eyes. "New California Republic Correctional Facility."

"Oh, right. That place those Powder Gangers took over."

Melissa nodded, walking up the stairs to what was now Sunny's room. "We're not clear of your Powder Ganger friends yet."

"Joy."


	19. Find Your Way

**.**

**NINETEEN**

**Novac Courtyard**

**July 2nd**

**15:22**

"I'm not coming with you."

He said it firmly, making it clear that there was to be no discussion. Melissa, predictably, only shrugged at the news.

"You sure?" En asked just the same. They stood in the hot midday sun, ready to leave for NCRCF.

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't," Ringo merely said to that. "I need to stay with Sunny. She'll wake up any minute now and I don't want her to be alone."

"Alright, Ringo. We'll come back with that Auto-Doc, don't worry."

"You had better. I don't much like leaving you two alone, but that's the way it has to be."

Melissa lit her cigarette, took a drag and said, "I'll take my gun back now."

Ringo looked at the MP at his belt, sighed, and then lifted the strap over his shoulder, handing her the submachine gun without a word.

"Righto," Melissa said. "Now let's go somewhere secluded, jillaroo, so I can shoot you in the back of the neck."

"Tch," En scoffed. "At least shoot me in the same side of my head so I don't have _two_ scars."

"Let's get movin' before I have to shoot you in the arse."

"Ooh! That rhymed!" En held up her hand to high-five Melissa, who promptly obliged. "Poet, don't know it!"

"Yeah," Ringo muttered, looking gloomy. "Go ahead and consider it a fun camping trip."

"Makin' the best of a bad situation, stuffy-man," Melissa countered as she and En turned to leave. "Don't worry, we'll get it done."

"That's right," En agreed. "Sunny'll be good as new, guaranteed!"

"Yeah."

They walked out as Ringo stood watching, thinking God-knows-what about them leaving without him and Melissa having her weapon back. He was permitted to be a bit brooding, En thought, after keeping such a cool head when Sunny got hurt. Poor Sunny. En had gotten her wits back together and she'd gladly take over Ringo's role as the level-headed one. After all, the man had just as much right to show emotion as everyone else.

"NCRCF's over the hills, back toward Goodsprings. Might be a bit of a climb. Sure your tender little calf muscles can take the hike?"

En shrugged. "If they don't, I can always climb on your back."

Melissa snorted. "As if. I have _burns_, remember?" She pointed at the side of her neck with a grin.

"How are those?"

"Alright."

"I see you got your good cheer back?"

Melissa gave a lopsided grin. "No point going all woe-is-me, is there? Situation's as it is, might as well accept it and try to stay a bit buoyant about it." They were walking towards the hills now, Melissa's boots kicking up sand.

"But it's not just an act, is it? I mean, you're feeling better, right?"

"Jillaroo, I feel _awful_. But staying jolly about it is how I deal with it. Be glad I don't come home drunk and beat you and the kids."

That made En chuckle. "Alright. But if you wanna talk, I might not be the best person to come to, but I'm here, okay?"

She grinned again. "I'm sure that's fine. But if I need advice on acne, a sudden existential crisis or how my dad is such a cheap piker about my allowance, I'll come straight to you."

"Aw, hey! I'll have you know I'm very mature for my age."

Melissa's grin widened in response to that.

The hills slowly came closer, growing a little bit with every step they took toward them. Melissa had been right, it was going to be a serious climb. En was glad her folks had invested in good hiking boots before sending her on her courier job. Shit! Her parents, she was going to write them a letter. She made a mental note to do so when she got back to Novac. The terrain gradually became more rugged, but thankfully there was a mountain trail cut into the rocks, so at least no pitons and rope would have to be involved. They'd left their packs in Novac, but still, even with just her rifle weighing her down, En was struggling to keep up with Melissa, who climbed up the trail, seemingly without any effort. Damn woman had been done a number on with a branding iron just last night, and she was already hopping up a steep trail like a mountain goat. En had to grin and shake her head when she thought of what a badass Melissa was.

"C'mon, jillaroo, try and keep up, yeah?"

"Hey," En protested, getting a little short of breath. "I'm not a maniac like you. I'm just some teenager who delivers packages." Her calves were burning with fatigue, but no way she was going to give up. Not as long as show-off Melissa pranced up that trail, looking frisky and fresh.

"When we're done with this," Melissa said, not even panting in the least, "I'm hiring you to deliver packages to radio towers on hilltops. Just empty boxes, but you won't know that."

"Bah. Dastardly woman."

"Almost to the top, you little sook."

And indeed, looking up, En could see that the rotten mountain trail ended in clear blue sky. Almost there. She was panting like a dog now, but realizing the end was in sight gave her a fresh burst of energy, and she climbed the remainder of the mountain trail purely on willpower.

It was around eight when they stood on the hilltop, Melissa looking out over the Mojave and at the sun which had started its slow descent, and En doubled over, her hands on her knees, getting her breath back. She felt Melissa's hand roughly but affectionately brushing through the short hair on the back of her head. "You're a right battler, jillaroo."

En had no idea what she was babbling about, or what a _roit__bettlah_ was, but she assumed it was a compliment. "Why thank you. But we shouldn't waste time. Gotta get back to Sunny as quickly as possible." As much as she wanted to stay on that hilltop and rest, she had to think of poor hurting Sunny.

Melissa gave a brief nod. "Yeah, alright. Well, your calves got their workout, now it's time for your thighs."

She hadn't been kidding. Taking the mountain trail downhill let her calves rest somewhat, but now it was her thighs that began burning. Her throat hurt from sucking air through it, but she soldiered on. As her muscles grew more tired, her legs had more and more trouble absorbing the shocks from her weight coming down, and every step made her jaw clack together harder. Melissa noticed her struggling, and wordlessly announced a time-out by sitting down on a boulder and pulling open the beer can she'd kept in her leather jacket the entire time. She took three big gulps, threw her head back and sighed contentedly. After a loud burp, she held the can out to En. "Better than having to drink your own piss."

En took it, grinning. "No jokes about getting into trouble for encouraging underage drinking?"

"Pft. A beer never hurt anyone."

"Except alcoholics, then."

"Yeah, well, I detect no red nose or stinky alcohol breath on you. So be quiet and drink your tinnie."

"Yes mother." The beer was lukewarm, and actually quite disgusting, but it was liquid, soothing her aching throat and spreading its liquidness into En's abdomen like a golden, lukewarm, bitter wave of relief. She permitted herself a quiet burp, then passed the can back to Melissa, who drained it in two more impressive gulps.

"Well," she announced, "that was our last break before the real work begins. See that fenced-in container village down there? That's NCRCF."

The place Melissa had pointed to was indeed a small cluster of InstaBuild barracks, like the ones that had been used to build New Arroyo way back when (and of which a few still stood today), surrounded by a high wire fence, at least three metres high and tipped with razorwire. Climbing that was a no-go. The entrance lay at the far side of the compound, and it looked to be a sort of corridor formed with more wire, leading to two doors, which had probably operated in an airlock fashion before, but one of which was now wide open. That meant going inside probably wouldn't be all that difficult – if it wasn't for the two guards each manning one of the towers that were set in the corners of the compound and keeping an eye on the entrance. Sure, it was nothing a good marksman (like En, if she did say so herself) couldn't take care of, but then they still had to contend with the Powder Gangers inside.

Of course…

"I have an idea," En said to Melissa.

"Knew I could count on you. I'm listenin'."

Oh, no she didn't. If Sunny and Ringo had been there, they could have told Melissa asking was pointless. Maybe it was one of her smaller sides, but En just loved keeping people in suspense. Made them all the more impressed when they saw her plan was actually pretty damn good after all. "I'm not telling."

"Oh, you're one of those 'you'll see'-types, are you?"

"Absolutely."

Melissa grunted. "I don't like you guys."

"But you love me. Now we gotta wait 'til nightfall. I don't suppose you brought something to eat?"

"No need. Be right back."

"Where are you going?"

A mischievous smirk on her face, Melissa only replied with, "You'll see." Heh, it was only fair.

En sat in silence for a while, taking care to stay at least a bit hidden, you never knew one of those Powder Ganger morons turned his head and saw her sitting there. It was a pretty long ways off, and you really had to be looking intently to spot her, but she preferred not to take the risk. After a few minutes, there was a rustling next to her, and Melissa appeared holding some strange kind of bulging yellow flowers. "What the Hell is that?"

Melissa tsk'ed disapprovingly. "You travel for a living and you don't know basic survival? These are banana yucca flowers. Got nice, sweet fruit inside."

"Ooh, nice!"

"M-hm." Melissa deftly peeled the flower leaves off one of the fruits and passed it to her. "Enjoy."

Hoping Melissa wasn't pulling some kind of fiendish prank on her, En carefully set her teeth into the yucca fruit. Sweet juice broke from the fruit as she bit it, and damn it, it tasted wonderful. "Whoa," she said, munching through a mouthful of fruit.

Melissa only nodded sagely as she chewed.

The yucca meal was enjoyed in silence, and when they were done, darkness had crept over the Mojave, and sleep over Melissa. En looked at her Pip-Boy watch and saw it was ten thirty. Just a little longer. They waited until the last shreds of twilight had turned into night, and at twenty past midnight, En picked up her rifle and nudged Melissa awake. "Now's the time."

"Alright," Melissa said after rubbing her eyes. "You're going to snipe the mongrels in the towers. Then what?"

"You'll see." Oh, how she enjoyed this.

"Won't this wake the whole bunch?"

En peered through the scope of her XM-21. "Mmmmno, we're far enough away. Those Powder Gangers sleep indoors, so they won't hear." At least, she hoped.

"If you say so."

"I do say so. It's just a matter of getting both those tower guards quickly enough that they can't raise the alarm."

The crosshair settled over the head of the first Powder Ganger guard. It was quite a ways off, so En aimed ten centimetres above him, and just a little to the right, to compensate for the wind. Slowly, she squeezed the trigger until the shot went off with a dry _crack_. An instant later, a red fan was slapped out of the tower guard's bald head, but before the body had even fallen, En shifted her aim to the other guard. As the man turned his head to see his comrade go down, she fired again, getting him in the face. He was knocked back from the blow and thrown over the railing. En winced as she saw him plummet to the ground, but thankfully the body didn't hit anything noisy on the way down, thudding into the soft ground with minimal noise, and sending up a puff of dust.

"At least he died spectacularly," Melissa commented.

"M-hm. Just like in the movies." En blocked off the thought that she had just killed two people, ended their lives, something that could never be taken back or undone.

"So, next phase of your plan?"

"We hustle down there. If anyone's heard the shots, they'll come out anyway, so by the time we're down there, we'll know if there's anyone left awake."

"In _theory_."

"… In theory."

They quickly but quietly descended the flank of the hill, En ignoring her tired thigh and calf muscles, until they'd finally reached the wire at the back of the compound. No sleep-drunken Powder Gangers had staggered out to investigate the shots, so they were all fast asleep. En hoped. Now for the second phase of her plan. That meant locating a certain mechanism.

"So what now?" Melissa whispered as they ran hunched toward the front of the prison.

"Well, way I'm reasoning, those Powder Gangers are lazy slobs, right?"

"Uh huh?"

"So they won't have taken the trouble to move their beds anywhere else."

"… yeees?"

"You'll see."

That only prompted a loud "Gah!" from Melissa.

They'd reached the front of the compound and passed by the fallen Powder Ganger. His face had been pounded into mush by En's bullet, so En slipped his key ring off his belt without looking higher than his collar. "Good thing he came all the way down for us. Saves me sore fingers from picking that lock."

"They're nothing if not thoughtful."

"Remind me to send them flowers when this is done." They sneaked toward the front door of the prison, and the first key En tried fit the lock. "Shhh now."

Melissa nodded silently.

En pushed the door open gently, taking care not to let it bang into anything or make any other noise.

The prison building was dark, a long narrow corridor with cells on either side, the floor set with alternating black and white tiles. The cell doors were open on both sides, which was a good sign. She glanced around and saw where she needed to go: the small office of the guard, back when the facility had been staffed by NCR prison guards. She gestured for Melissa to stay where she was, and quietly crept off toward the office. Light snoring could be heard in the corridor.

She made it to the office without any problems. It was pitch dark in there, so she risked turning her Pip-Boy light on, covering most of it with her free hand. A dim poisonous green light lit up the office, and the thing she was looking for: a red circuit breaker with a small sign below it: EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN.

Grinning with glee, she pulled the circuit breaker downwards, and the noise of twenty cell doors clanking closed filled the prison building. The curses, shouts, and surprised what-the-Hells followed right after. The Powder Gangers had probably never expected to be locked back up in their cells so quickly. Suckers!

Melissa barged into the office door, giggling stupidly. "Well played, lassie!"

"Come on, we need to get to medical. Might be some sleeping there, so let's be careful."

She instantly became serious again and slapped her weapon. "You got it."

The medical building was, fortunately, accessible through the courtyard by going past the guards' office, so they could just avoid the corridor full of screaming, cursing and roaring Powder Gangers, some of whom could have taken their guns inside with them. Running a gauntlet of furious Powder Gangers with guns wasn't exactly En's idea of a good time.

They emerged in the courtyard, a stretch of barren land, just like about the whole Wasteland, littered with rusted empty tin cans, empty bottles, plates and utensils, and all other things you'd expect in the courtyard of a prison now run by lazy criminal scum. Picnic benches and tables were knocked over, some even destroyed, burnt black by blasts of explosives. Right, that's why they called them Power Gangers. They'd taken over the prison with the explosives they used in digging. What NCR moron had ever thought giving these forced-labour criminals sticks of dynamite and teaching them how to use them was a good idea? Here and there lay a fallen NCR guard, silent witnesses to the take-over. Most of them were badly mauled by explosive blasts, the bodies mostly rotted away now.

They didn't have time to admire the vista, so they just ran toward the barrack with a large red cross on it. En hoped with all her might that the facility actually had an Auto-Doc. Then it'd just be a matter of getting it back to Novac. Which wouldn't be easy with those mountains in the way. Well, cross that bridge when they got to it and all.

The medical bay wasn't locked, and Melissa's hard kick was unnecessary, but En suspected she did it more for dramatic effect than for practical reasons.

"Whoa, don't shoot!"

There were two Powder Gangers in the dark medical bay, and from what En could see, they looked just about to 'make use' of one of the hospital beds. The man already had his shirt off and the woman sat on the bed, her legs wrapped around him.

Calmly, her face showing no emotion, Melissa raised her MP, and with one hand, fired a burst at the two. The woman was shot in the side and the throat, knocked sideways off the bed, and the man took several to the torso and the last one to the face, flying to the ground, his arms describing wide circles.

"Geez, Melissa," En breathed.

"Can't trust these mongrels, jillaroo." And indeed, as they'd fallen, two pistols had clattered to the ground with them. "Don't shoot", Melissa said cynically, "because they want to shoot you first."

En snatched up the two pistols, took the clips out, and tucked the weapons in her belt, stuffing the clips in the back pocket of her jeans. "Come on, let's search the place." She felt for the light switch and found it, clicking the lights on.

"No need," Melissa said, pointing at the gray metal cylinder in the corner. It was a big thing, around two metres high and one metre wide, with a large green logo on the door, of a snake coiled around a staff.

"Alright, y_es_!" En cheered, almost leaping up with joy. "Can I do a dance?"

Melissa shrugged. "If you wanna."

"I'll do one in spirit. Now let's see how we can get this out of here."

"Doesn't have wheels," Melissa muttered. "Otherwise it'd be easy. Least on level terrain."

En pushed the thing, and only succeeded in tilting it a little bit. "Dang, that's heavy."

Melissa chuckled. "No, you just have chicken muscles."

"I prefer to call myself femininely streamlined."

"You girls need a hand?"

An unknown hoarse man's voice came from the slit in a thick, solid iron door. Melissa and En whirled around and pointed their weapons in its direction.

"No need for that, ladies, whoever the Hell you are, I'm not exactly a threat stuck in this hole, am I?" The voice had a slight Southern drawl, but sounded clearly as if it tried to hide it.

"Uh…" En asked, confused. "Who are you?"

"Someone who didn't help those damn Powder Gangers try and take over the prison, so they threw me in the hole." A short chuckle, and then, "Guess they were feelin' merciful."

"Well, good that you didn't help," En said, "but that doesn't answer my question."

"I've got a better one," Melissa interrupted. "What'd they throw you in jail for in the first place?"

There was another chuckle from the narrow slit. "I'll answer them both. But my throat's real dry here, ladies."

Right. The perennial phrase used to get a hold of some alcohol. "There's no whiskey here I'm afraid," En said.

An amused laugh this time. "I wasn't askin' about that. I've been in this hole for weeks, and the only water I've been gettin' was in secret, from one of the Powder Gangers I'd given my last smokes to when I came in. Probably would have been dead already if it weren't for him."

Oh. He needed normal water. Right. En quickly looked around the medical bay and saw a faucet and a sink on the wall. And empty pill bottle served as a container, and she filled it with the dirty tap water, then passed the pill bottle through the slit. A weathered hand snatched it and it disappeared in the darkness of the isolation cell.

There was the sound of greedy gulping, and then a contented, "Aw yeah. That fixed me up real good."

"Glad to hear it. Now, our questions?"

"Heh, right. Name's Clifton Meyers. I used to be a sheriff up North, but when our bear-lovin' friends started spreadin' their influence to my town, they determined I was a little too… how shall I put it… independent?... in my administration of the law."

Melissa chuckled. "Frontier justice, huh?"

"Yes ma'am. When you're sheriff in the fringe territories, sometimes you simply don't have the means for fair trials and a jury of their peers and jurisprudence and proper procedure and whatnot. Sometimes you just have to do what you think is right and act pragmatically."

"I'm… not sure I like what I'm hearing," En said carefully. New Arroyo had been the most modern city in the Wastes when it came to police and justice work, at least that was its reputation, but En had heard stories of over-zealous vigilante groups, absolutist enforcer bands and all other kinds of self-appointed regulators, and none of them good.

"Believe me, miss, I don't always like what I do either. But human laws are imperfect, and in my opinion, subordinate to the universal cosmic principle of Justice." It was strange to hear a voice with such a camouflaged but still perceptible Southern accent use words like 'jurisprudence', 'subordinate' and 'universal cosmic principle of Justice'. Maybe En was a little small-minded or prejudiced in that matter, but Southern drawls always sounded unintelligent to her. She felt guilty for letting herself be led by stereotypes, but couldn't help it.

"So who are you to mete out judgment according to this universal cosmic principle of Justice?" Melissa asked, the same question that was on En's lips.

"I'm the sheriff, ma'am. If I'm not gonna do it, who will?"

"Nobody," Melissa answered flatly. "The people can govern themselves."

The raw voice laughed in the darkness. "Wish that were so, ma'am, I truly do."

Something else captured En's attention. "Why'd they put the isolation cell next to the medical bay anyway?"

"Because usually," the man in the hole answered, "prisoners go back and forth between the two quite often."

"Hm. Nice place."

Melissa shrugged. "NCR's all lovey-dovey on the outside, but that just means their shit goes on behind closed doors instead of in the open."

"Yeah, alright," En sighed wearily. "Let's not go there again."

"Sure."

"So do we let this guy out or what?"

With a snort, Melissa said, "What, you're gonna leave him in there to slowly rot just for bein' a bit nostalgic for the cowboy era?" The man in the isolation cell remained strangely silent.

"I know, but I don't really approve of all that frontier justice stuff, to be honest."

"Cute that you're idealist," Melissa said to that, "but I prefer someone with good intentions who gets out of line every now and then over all those selfish, thieving pricks out there. Besides, he can play mule while we bring the Auto-Doc back to Sunny."

"I thought you Khans hated the law?"

She shrugged. "I'm not a Khan anymore. And I respect the man's independent and action-oriented attitude. And he is in remarkably high spirits for being in that hole for so long, and having the possible prospect of being in there much longer still."

En supposed it wouldn't be a terrible crime if they set the man free. Leaving him to slowly die in that awful isolation cell would be far worse than any unlawful justice he'd doled out. With a sigh, she conceded, "Fine, let him out then."

Without much enthusiasm, Melissa pulled the bolt away and pushed the door open, letting the light of the medical bay flow into the hole, illuminating the huddled, prison-outfitted occupant, shielding his eyes from the glare.

"You're free to go, sheriff," Melissa remarked.

"After you help us get that Auto-Doc out of here."

Still squinting against the light, the sheriff clambered to his feet and shuffled out. He looked terribly thin, his prison get-up hanging loose over his skinny frame. Of course, the man hadn't eaten for god-knows how long, so some stylish slimming was to be expected. "Must have been an efficient crash diet," she couldn't resist remarking.

With a hoarse chuckle, he said, "Yep, lock some women in here, and they won't complain about looking fat again anytime soon."

"Aoh," En gasped in mock indignation. "Sexist." For some reason, she rather liked the middle-aged hard-ass. Because he clearly was. His hair was a silvery gray, cropped into a military cut, and he had a light beard and moustache which made his face look square and hard. Cold steelblue eyes set below stern eyebrows reinforced the point. He wasn't tall, or all that impressive in terms of build, but his entire face said, _I__can__laugh__and__make__jokes,__but__if__I__stop__having__fun,__you__'__ll__never__laugh__again_. But somehow En got the impression that if you stayed on this man's good side, he was a kind and caring person.

"Got some food?"

"Mm?"

He grinned. "Something to eat, miss. I'm starving."

Before En could answer, Melissa reached into her jacket pocket. "Have a banana yucca fruit."

"Ah!" Meyers let out, overjoyed. "The fruit of kings!" He bit into it, tilting his head back to let the juice flow into his gullet (and down his chin). "My word, shimmering white angels you are, descending from heaven."

"I think the yucca juice is going to his head," Melissa said to En out of the corner of her mouth.

"Maybe. Hey we need to stop wasting time here. Sunny's not getting any healthier."

"Right," the sheriff said with a nod, munching the last of his banana yucca. "You were stealin' an Auto-Doc."

"Well, _stealing_…" En nuanced.

"Suppose it's not stealin' if you need it to save someone's life. Where are you takin' it?"

"Novac."

He wiped imaginary sweat off his brow with his sleeve. "Phew. Not exactly a stone's throw away."

"Not exactly, no," Melissa said. "And we need to haul it over those mountains too. No idea how we're gonna get that done."

Shit, yeah. En hadn't thought of that yet. How the Hell would they get the Auto-Doc over those mountains? The damn thing was too heavy to even lift, let alone getting it over those mountains. God dammit, and every minute they wasted, Sunny was in pain and at higher risk of losing her legs.

Meyers laughed. "You serious?"

"Hm?"

"You actually plan on dragging that thing over the hills?"

"It's either that," En snapped, "or my best friend never walks again!" She didn't like losing her cool, and the man had no way of knowing Sunny was in that bad a shape, but god dammit, it wasn't a matter to laugh about.

"Easy there, dear," Meyers said calmly. "You misunderstand. What I was gonna say, is that it's not necessary to drag that thing over the mountains."

"Are you suggesting we use the Fairyland Express Magical Elevator?" En asked, still a bit tetchy.

"Nothing so dramatic. There's a cave runnin' under the hills that emerges West of Novac. Might not be the safest place to lug an Auto-Doc through, but it'll certainly be the fastest."

"A cave under the mountains?" Melissa echoed, her arms crossed. "I know every inch of this area. Pull the other one."

Right, Melissa had been a scout for the Khans before last night. If Meyers was telling the truth, her ego would probably get a serious dent. But En supposed that wouldn't kill her.

"I shit you not," Meyes persisted. "Two of the Powder Gangers used to smuggle guns through there before they got collared by the NCR. I've never seen it, but I know where it is."

"Oh really?" Melissa challenged with her arms still crossed, shifting her weight to one of her legs defiantly. "Where?"

"Should be an old bunker dug into the side of the mountain, with some 'drop chems not bombs' graffiti above the door. Know where it is?"

Melissa's defiant stance betrayed a slight bit of insecurity at his specific description of the place. "Of course I know where it is."

"There's a camouflaged trap door near the tree just North of it. That's the entrance."

Melissa was quiet for a while, then sniffed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Yeah, alright, you two, let's get going. I don't want to waste any more time," En settled it. "Whether or not you believe it, Melissa, we need to go with the cave option. Taking that Auto-Doc over the mountains isn't an option, and going around will take ages."

Melissa merely shrugged.

"If you're gonna haul that big hunk of metal around," Meyers advised, "you'll need some means of conveyance."

"Right." En's mind was already working on that, her mind planning to screw the undercarriage off those rolling crash carts and somehow mount the Auto-Doc on top of it, so it'd have a little rolling tray, but as she slid her screwdriver out of her tool belt, Melissa matter-of-factly rolled a bed towards En, letting it bump into her side, said, "Hold it there," and tilted the Auto-Doc so the top came to rest on the head end of the bed, then with a loud grunt, lifted the machine's base up, her muscles rippling and the veins on her forehead bulging, and dumped it at the foot end of the bed. It fit perfectly. En stood awe-struck. That Auto-Doc had been _heavy_, and Melissa had just placed it on a hospital bed with no more than a grunt. And those biceps tensing up had been pretty damn impressive.

"My, my," Meyers said, not hiding his admiration. "Now I'm hopin' that cave thing's not true, because I sure as Hell wouldn't like to be on your bad side."

Melissa wiped her hands and casually said, "Don't worry, if you're actually right about that cave, I'll just throw you back in your hole."

"Hmph. Then I'd rather get my ass beat, if that's alright with you."

Melissa placed a hand on the white bandage on the side of her neck and winced. "That's fine."

"Come on," En said. "Let's move."

Meyers held a finger up. "You got just one more minute?"

With a grunting sigh, En said, "Alright, but then we really need to go. What do you need?"

"I assume there's no Powder Gangers in the cells, right?"

With a grin, Melissa said, "Oh, they're there alright." And to Meyers' puzzled glance, she answered, "We locked the cell doors in their faces."

"Ha! Wonderful!" Figured that would amuse the man. " Well, I just need to pass by the guards' office to get the things they confiscated when I was thrown in jail."

"Fat chance," Melissa snorted. "Those Powder Gangers probably took everything valuable anyway."

He shook his head. "Not that. Not all of it anyway."

With an involuntary roll of her eyes, En said, "Fine, but hurry."

"Be right back." Meyers darted out of the medical bay, surprisingly spry for his rather emaciated frame.

"Maybe one of us should go with him?" Melissa suggested. "To make sure he doesn't just take off?"

But En didn't really care. She shrugged and said, "Let him if he wants to. Not like we can't find that cave on our own."

"True." Then Melissa turned toward the medical cabinet screwed into the wall. "While we wait, might as well spend our time usefully."

"Mm?"

She opened the cabinet door and started chucking pill bottles in her jacket pocket. "Painkillurrrrrs!"

"You intend to be in a lot of pain soon?" En asked, amused despite her hurry.

She shrugged and twisted the cap off an ibuprofen bottle. "Better grab everything I can." Then she filled an empty pill bottle with water, like En had done, and washed down two of the pills with it. "A little pick-me-up."

Right, the burns were probably still giving her pain. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be inconsiderate."

Melissa laughed, "That's okay, jillaroo. To be honest, the less thought we give it, the better, yeah?"

"I suppose."

Melissa held her jacket open like those stolen-watch-salesmen you saw in pre-War movies and said conspiratorially, "Can I interest you in some illegal medicines?"

"No thanks," En said with a smile. "What'd you grab anyway?"

"Ummm…" she went through the contents of her pocket with her fingertips. "I only took the ones I recognized, you know, that we can use. Various painkillers, two packs of radiation medicine, a box of anti-infectives, and some diarrhoea medicine." She looked up at En and said, "Hey, you never know."

"True, nothing's more uncomfortable than having to ask for a break during a shoot-out because you've got the shits."

"My thoughts exactly."

A shot, and then another, rang out from the prison's main building. En reached for her weapon, but Melissa casually said, "I wouldn't worry. Pretty sure our sheriff cobber took a moment to gloat."

And indeed, Meyers ran in, grinning and holding a packet under his arm, wrapped in paper. "Sorry, I couldn't resist displayin' some schadenfreude."

"Some what?" En and Melissa asked simultaneously.

"It means when you take pleasure in another's misfortune. In that case, our poor imprisoned Powder Gangers." He placed the paper-wrapped packet onto the bed.

"Well, you've had your moment, and you've got your stuff, so let's _go_." En said impatiently.

Without a word, Melissa took the head end of the bed and wheeled it, machine-patient and all, out of the medical bay. En cut a hole into the fence with the wire cutters in her tool belt, and out the Auto-Doc went.

Thankfully, the ground was mostly level, firm and smooth on the way to the mystery cave, so Melissa didn't have much trouble lugging the Auto-Doc forward, though the bed did bang and rattle like crazy. But noise or no, they made good time, reaching the bunker in less than an hour. All the while, Melissa pulled the bed without a single complaint or suggestion that someone else should take over. En had asked if she'd like to let someone else pull for a while, but all Melissa had said to that was, "I'm good."

'Drop chems not bombs', was written in spray-on graffiti on the bunker. That was the one alright. And a bit to the North stood an old, leafless tree.

"So this is the place, right?" En asked.

Meyers nodded. "Should be a trap door near here."

"Yeah," Melissa said, clearly not pleased with the situation. "Right there."

She was pointing at an inclined patch of dry old plants, looking weaved together, probably as camouflage. If you didn't know there was something there, there was no way you'd have noticed it. Melissa had apparently decided not to be a sore loser, and she stuck her hand in between the dry plants, pulling the trap door up. The opening was thankfully large enough to stick the Auto-Doc plus bed through, though some muscle exertion would probably be required, since the cave dropped down a metre at the entrance.

"Well," Melissa said, looking down into the cave mouth. "This'll be a right pleasure."

En blocked the trap door with a big branch she'd found, and Melissa jumped down into the cave mouth. "I'll take the low point."

En and Meyers gently pushed the bed into the cave mouth, the bars coming down with a loud _bang_ as the front wheels went over the edge.

"Ow, fuck, En! Not so fast, you stupid little rotter!" Melissa cursed from down below as she stumbled to keep her footing, the bed jerking in En's and Meyers' hands, the paper-wrapped packet tumbling to the ground. Meyers wisely didn't make any noise.

"Oopsie daisy," En apologized sheepishly.

"Thing weighs a frikkin' ton," Melissa snapped back. "Think you can be a bit more careful?"

"Sorry."

They carefully lowered the bed into the cave, Melissa grunting and growling, struggling with the weight. But after a lot of cursing and mother-insulting, En and Meyers succeeded in lowering the head end onto the cave floor, and climbing down after it.

Even in the dim light, En could see the annoyance on Melissa's face. It was still there when Meyers knocked the branch away and the trap door fell closed, filling the cave with complete darkness.


	20. In The Dark

**.**

**TWENTY**

**A Cave**

**July 3rd**

**02:14**

Amber light lit up the still-annoyed face of Melissa. Hey, that's right, when they'd broken into the prison, her Pip-Boy had lit up in its normal green light, instead of the amber hue it emitted because of the damage. Probably a contact that had briefly connected, then let go again. No matter.

"That all the light we're gonna get?" Melissa grunted.

"Don't worry," the voice of Meyers came from behind En. "We'll see more when our eyes adapt."

"Yeah, thanks for pointin' that out, sheriff Obvious."

"Just sayin'."

"Guys, guys," En said, "Let's keep it constructive."

Melissa settled for an unfriendly, "Yeah." She grabbed the bed and pulled it forward, the wheels banging on the uneven cave floor. This would be fun.

"Sure hope nothin' creepy lives in these caves," Meyers remarked. Yeah, En sure hoped so too. Melissa had stopped to wait for the others, and silence had fallen inside the cave with only moisture dripping down as the only sound. As her eyes got used to the darkness, En could see more of the cave. It was wide and mostly straight, with a high ceiling studded with stalactites. Drops of water fell from them, making the dripping sounds that surrounded them, in various pitches. It would be a pleasant environment if it weren't for the fact that all kinds of nasties could live in caves like these.

"Not gettin' any younger, jillaroo," Melissa called out, interrupting her study of the environment.

"Right, let's go."

Meyes quietly picked up the paper-wrapped packet and followed.

The dripping sound was immediately drowned out by the banging the hospital bed made as it was dragged forward by Melissa, the Auto-Doc bouncing along with the bed. Even though it must have been terribly tiring to lug the bed forward across this uneven ground, Melissa didn't seem to be bothered in the least, stoically pulling her burden. En walked passed her to light the path ahead. As they walked, every once in a while, En could swear she saw eyes in the darkness ahead, reflecting her Pip-Boy light for a fraction of a second, only to disappear again.

"Say, um," Meyers' voice came from behind them, bouncing off the cave walls. "I gathered your name's Melissa, but I don't think I've had the honour of hearing yours yet, young lady. Care to enlighten me?"

"Oh, right, sorry." She hadn't even given that any thought. "It's En."

Before he could speak, Melissa interrupted, "And don't say Anne or she'll turn purple and kick her feet, and I'll have to hold her to stop the crying."

"You mean it's not Anne?"

"No, mr. Meyers, it's not," En said, calm and civilized. "See, Melissa? I'm perfectly relaxed about the whole thing."

In an exaggerated whisper, Melissa said to Meyers, "Ask her if it's short for something."

"Is it?"

This time En couldn't help but roll her eyes. "No, it's not. Just En."

"Ee-en," Melissa clarified helpfully.

"Hm. Strange name."

With a shrug, En said, "Not much weirder than Clifton."

"True, I suppose," Meyers said wistfully. "I'm just more partial to longer, more flowing names."

"What, like Barnabus? Or Trifonius? Pierre-Guillaume? Suryavarman?"

Meyers laughed in the darkness of the cave. "Well, they're names with character. 'En' is, I don't know, a little too short to have much personality."

"My bubbly and interesting character more than makes up for my lame-ass first name," En said, brushing away a lock of non-existent hair.

"I look forward to seeing that proven," Meyers said with a chuckle.

"Bloody hell, you two love chattering away, don't you?" Melissa interjected.

"Miss Melissa," Meyers explained pedantically, "it has been proven by many studies that making excessive noise keeps potentially aggressive predators at bay."

"Tch," Melissa scoffed. "Let 'em come. I'm meaner than any worthless cave mongrel."

Meyers couldn't say anything more to that than, "Um… yes."

"Don't worry," En told him. "Melissa gets grouchy when she hasn't had her beauty sleep."

Melissa countered with, "You're confusing me with Sunny there, jillaroo."

Though En had to chuckle at that, and at the memory of Sunny being grumpy and cranky every time she had to get out of her sleeping bag, a wave of sadness washed over her at the same time, as she was reminded of the state Sunny was in, and of the reason they were dragging this ten ton bed through a damp cave in the middle of the night.

"Sorry," Melissa said quietly, stopping. "Guess you didn't need that reminder, huh?"

"No. But it's alright."

A silence fell as they stood still in the dark cave. Meyers broke it after a minute, saying, "I'm not going to ask or anything, but if you feel like telling me who this Sunny-person is, and why she's in such bad shape, I'd love to listen."

"Sunny's uh, my friend. Well, our friend," En corrected (and Melissa had better not argue with her), "who stepped on a mine yesterday. Her legs were… are, in pretty bad shape." She felt tears well up in her eyes and stopped.

"And you need this Auto-Doc to treat her," Meyers finished. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, not really. But thanks."

"Come on," Melissa said. "Sooner we get to Novac, the sooner we'll be able to help her."

"Right."

They plodded on, the bed rambling and rattling as Melissa tirelessly pulled it over the cave floor. Every once in a while they had to help Melissa get it down a slope or up a ledge, but for the most part, the going was surprisingly easy.

Until Melissa stopped and said to En, "Yeah, they're eyes alright."

"Mm?"

The things reflectin' off your fancy wrist watch light. I noticed you frownin' at them too."

"Now might be a good time", Meyers remarked, "to hand me one of those pistols you've got at your belt."

After a moment's hesitation, En handed him the Ruger MK III. It was a peashooter, but the other weapon, a H&K MK23 was chambered in .45ACP, which was not only a monster calibre (and if En was going to get accidentally shot in the back, better by a glorified squirt gun than a hand cannon), but it also only had two more bullets in the clip, and they had no .45ACP ammo, whereas the Ruger still had a full 10-round magazine.

Meyers weighed the weapon in his hand, then said with a grin, "don't trust me enough to give me the punch-packer, do you?"

En shrugged. "You can kill us with that thing just the same. Besides, the other one doesn't have any ammo left."

With a chuckle, Meyer settled for, "I see."

"It's probably just creepy-crawlies or pig rats or something," Melissa said, resuming the bed-hauling. "No reason to get upset unless we start seein' more and more eyes."

En took out the Beretta just the same. The XM-21 would be worthless in here anyway. Gah, she hated being so close to nasty things. Far away where they couldn't touch her, that's where they were in their place. But not really, really close in a really, really dark cave with En's wrist being a bright, glowing target beacon. And even if it were just pig rats, and pig rats were about the size of a plump cat, they could still take a nasty bite out of people, and even worse, pass on serious infections and diseases. She really, really preferred to plink at bandits from a safe distance.

"It's alright, jillaroo," Melissa assured her. "They'll be gone in a sec. Plug your ears."

"Uh… you're not going to…?"

Meyers' amused voice came from behind her. "Better do as she says."

With an annoyed sigh, En held the barrel of her beretta in her hand and stuck her fingers in her ears. And even with her ears plugged, the bark of Melissa's MP was damn loud, the muzzle flashes lighting up the cave. When the blasts stopped, the eyes were gone, and all that could be heard was a sound like a pig choking. Melissa fired another round in the sound's direction, and it stopped. "There," she said, and without another word, resumed pulling the bed, the banging drowning out the ringing in En's ears.

"Sure could kill for a bite to eat now," Meyers let the others know.

"Well," En told him, "there's juicy brahmin steaks waiting in Novac."

"If Ringo didn't eat them all, that is," Melissa chimed in.

"Don't think he's all that hungry right about now."

"All the more for us," was what Melissa had to say to that.

"Yeah."

"Well," Meyers said, "I'd do bloody murder for a juicy steak right about now."

"No worries. If it gets too bad", Melissa said, "we can always shoot our teenager here, fillet her and bog in."

"It'll be the best meat you've ever had," En informed them. "If you're gonna eat human, might as well take the best."

"Aren't you modest," Melissa said.

"Between old and sinewy, and tough and muscly, yeah, I'm the finest choice. Plus Melissa, you'd taste of ink anyway."

Melissa chuckled. "Yeah, ink and broiled meat. Though I'd still be a better meal than old dry bones here."

"Hey, but I've got an excuse," Meyers protested. "I've been in a damn isolation cell for two weeks!"

En shrugged. "Less dry, just as old."

"You just have no appreciation for a fine vintage. Anyway, your friend's not gettin' any healthier, right?"

"Right."

"And I'm getting tired of ploddin' along in this sickly yellow light," Melissa added. "The sooner we're out of this arse crack the better."

They went on, the bed still banging around, Melissa still pulling it without a single complaint.

Shit, were those eyes again? "Melissa," En hissed quietly. They were higher and larger than the ones they'd seen before. That didn't foretell much good.

Melissa let go of the bed and lifted her MP. "I see it."

"Holy shit," Meyers breathed. "I know those eyes… that's no pig rat!"

En's gut clenched when he said it, and a few moments later, the thing came forward, lit by the amber pip-boy light. It walked with a swaying gait on two short legs, had long muscled arms that ended in mean, long claws, and a face that looked like an elongated skull with an underbite, and three horns on its head.

As soon as Melissa moved, the deathclaw pounced at her, propelling itself forward with incredible speed and swiping its brutal-looking claws at her. Faster than En could follow, Melissa threw herself to the side and the deathclaw banged face-first into the Auto-Doc. Shots sounded next to her as Meyers fired the Ruger, but the bullets only succeeded in making small splats of blood spatter out of the deathclaw's shoulder. Finally, En's brain kicked into gear too, and she fired the Beretta, but the deathclaw moved too quickly, and her shot uselessly glanced off the deathclaw's back, the bullets deflected by the creature's hard scales. Prone, Melissa hefted her MP and fired a burst at the enormous mutated lizard, the shots sending a cloud of blood out of the monster's chest and the flashes lighting up Melissa's snarling face. Despite the grievous injury, the deathclaw lunged at her again, and she had to roll out of the way to avoid having her head swept clean off her shoulders. En fired another shot, calmer now, and it hit the creature straight in the eye. It howled and swiped its claws at the air, and Melissa took the opportunity to fire another burst point-blank at the thing's head, the salvo tearing its lower jaw off and taking part of its muzzle with it. As Melissa's weapon produced a dry _click_, the deathclaw still stood, despite only having half a head left and having most of its chest muscles hanging from his ribcage in bloody shreds. Slowly it turned, half-blind and probably with considerable brain damage, to Melissa, who'd cornered herself by rolling out of the way, and lumbered towards her, Melissa cursing and scrambling backwards against the cave wall. As it lifted its arm to swipe Melissa's face off, En breathed in, centred the bead of her weapon on the nape of the monster's neck, and fired.

The shot struck the deathclaw in the brain stem, destroying it and exiting through the remains of its face. It froze for a moment, then its knees buckled and it collapsed into a heap, right in front of Melissa.

"Whew," she breathed, getting to her feet and slapping the muck off the seat of her leather pants. "Was right bailed up there."

Swallowing, En holstered the Beretta. "If you mean it was close, then yeah."

Meyers stood staring at his pistol. "That thing couldn't blow out a candle in a storm."

Melissa grimaced at the muck on her palms and said, "Our guns are pretty useless against a deathclaw too, but if you put one in the right place, no matter how big the critter is, it's goin' down." And with a nod, she added, "Good shooting on that last one, jillaroo."

"Yeah, I suppose," En acknowledged, "though you really did most of the d…"

"You alright, young lady?"

There it was again, shrieking ears, the ever-present headache swelling to a pounding, slamming agony. Her weapon clattered to the ground as her fingers lost their grip, and she doubled over before going to her knees. The shrieking in her ears made everything else impossible to hear, and her vision, even with her eyes closed, slowly brightened until it was completely white. Bile worked itself up in her throat, pushed up by her nauseous stomach, but despite her lack of coordination, she kept it down.

"It's alright," she heard Melissa say from far away. "Just let her get through it, she'll come out of it."

She felt herself keeling over, so she supported herself with her hands, and as she did so, the shrieking gradually receded. The headache followed in its decline soon after. She sat on hands and knees, breathing hard until the worst passed.

"My word, what just happened to you, miss?" Meyers asked, concerned.

"It's… okay," En breathed. "I get these… attacks sometimes. It… looks worse than it is," she lied.

Melissa's hand hovered in front of her, and she took it, hooking her thumbs into Melissa's, and allowing herself to be pulled up. She shook on her feet a bit, but the dizziness would go away as it always did. The headache, however, would stay.

"Is it because of the…?" Meyers pointed at the scar on the side of En's head.

"Yeah, gunshot wound."

His eyes widened. "You survived a gunshot wound to _the head_?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Why would anyone want to shoot you?"

Melissa snorted. "You heard her jokes already?"

"My jokes are hilarious, Melissa. And it's not entirely clear, but I intend to find out. That's why we're travelling the Wastes."

"And he just… shot you? Without giving a reason? Execution style?"

"Mhm."

"Well I'll be," Meyers said, awed. "You must be luckier than twenty Irishmen in a keg of Guinness."

"Heh, yeah, I get that – urk!"

Melissa snatched En's arm and pulled her Pip-Boy towards the Auto-Doc, inspecting the dent made by the deathclaw's unintentional head butt. Or face plant, more accurately. "Mm. Doesn't seem to be any damage."

"I'll give it a look when we're out of here," En said, her arm still outstretched by Melissa's ungentle grip.

Melissa settled for a short "Mm," and let go of En's arm. "Let's go."

The bed resumed its familiar banging, but apart from that, they walked in silence. En noticed the white gauze taped over the side of Melissa's neck had a few stripes soaked into it, red that looked black in the little amber light they had, but she said nothing. It must hurt like Hell, those nasty burns, but knowing Melissa, she'd just get peeved at people expressing concern. En took a moment to realize just how strange this woman was. A Khan who'd shot her with reluctance in her eyes, then spent a few days in chains, and even after that, simply out of a sense of responsibility, had taken her erstwhile captor under her wing, and beneath all the tattoos, double mohawks and… well, slightly masculine musculature was a caring and inspiring person . She counted herself lucky to be accompanied by such great people, even if those great people didn't always get along with each other. Maybe Meyers wanted to stick around as well. He seemed like an OK sort too, apart from his slightly radical interpretation of justice.

"Whoo!" Melissa exclaimed. "Look over there!"

"What, what?"

Grinning, Melissa pointed ahead and slightly up. En didn't see anything until she lowered her Pip-Boy. "Stars, yay!"

Fresh air came toward them, as if Melissa's noticing of the stars had been a coded permission for them to waft in. Seeing the night sky again, even after only – she checked her Pip-Boy – two hours and a half was a wonderful feeling. En wasn't claustrophobic, but she sure as Hell didn't like being trapped in a damp cave for too long. And she figured the others felt the same. As the fresh air washed over her, she realized her skin had been damp too, and the gentle cool air drying it felt wonderful.

"There we are," Meyers said, not doing any effort at all to hide the pride in his voice. "Novac's just to the East." And indeed, a collection of houses and the trademark ridiculous thermometer-biting dinosaur could be seen in the distance, dark forms against the lighter sand and dirt of the Wastes.

Melissa harrumphed. "Guess I owe you, sheriff bloke."

"Seems you do, amazon."

"Come on," En cheered, breaking into a jog. "Let's get to Novac!"

"Oi!" Melissa protested. "I'm haulin' this bed around, remember, ankle biter?"

"Heh, sorry. Got a little carried away."

With his nose proudly in the air, Meyers silently placed the paper-wrapped packet back onto the bed.

"Okay, so a man goes to a whorehouse and asks for the cheapest thing he can get," En began to tell, instantly getting the ear of both her travelling companions. Who didn't love a good joke, right?

The jokes continued as they walked, some more worthy of laughter than others, but all of them lifting the gloomy atmosphere of the cave off their spirits, little by little. In the end, they were all laughing, Melissa swaying to and fro as she dragged the bed behind her, and Meyers shooting off a lot of jokes on his own, all politically completely incorrect, but all pretty damn funny.

"… so the Japanese guy leaps out f the bushes and shouts, 'SUPPLIES!'," En finished her last joke, prompting more laughter from Melissa and Meyers as she pushed the wire fence open, letting Melissa and her hospital bad pass through into the motel courtyard.

Guffawing, Meyers wiped away a tear. "My word, ladies, this was a fine walk indeed."

"I thought I heard some teenage brat telling jokes," Ringo's voice came from the walkway. But then his eyes lit up. "And you brought an Auto-Doc! This is most fortunate!"

"I'll get that doctor-slash-chem pusher," Melissa said, and ran off.

"Umm… and you picked someone up, I see?" Ringo continued. He tugged his jacket collar. "Who looks to be of questionable moral fiber."

"I assure you, young man," Meyers called to the walkway, "I was imprisoned for a trumped-up charge, and have nothing to do with those despicable Powder Gangers, despite my rather dubious vestimentary state."

"Well, no time to worry about that now. Let's get that Auto-Doc up here."

Hauling the hospital bed cum Auto-Doc up the stairs proved to be an enormous, sweaty, grunting effort, but they got it done. When they took a breath, En couldn't resist remarking, "Phew. This was as sweaty as a sumo wrestler sauna orgy."

"Quite," Ringo said sourly, wheeling the bed into the motel room at the same time Melissa arrived with Doctor Strauss.

"You found one," Strauss chirped, wasting no time turning on the Auto-Doc. A slot opened and Strauss slid in a packet she'd been carrying with her.

"What's that?" En asked, kissing the sleeping Sunny on the brow. She'd been covered with a light blanket, and no blood had soaked through, so En supposed that was a good sign.

"Mm? Oh, Auto-Doc needs fresh chems to work. The machinery's all time-proof, but the chems decay over time, so it needs a fresh batch every time it's put to use."

"Oh."

"Right then," Strauss announced, clapping her hands together. "Restoration…" she muttered as she tapped the Auto-Doc's on-screen display. "Lower body… legs… bilateral."

The Auto-Doc's door slid open, ready to receive its patient.

"Alright, um," she pointed at Ringo and then Melissa. "You two lift up the patient, carefully, and place her inside the Auto-Doc."

Without a word, Melissa and Ringo lifted Sunny off the bed, blanket and all, and placed her inside the Auto-Doc chamber.

"Thank you, and now everybody out," Strauss commanded, holding the corner of Sunny's blanket with two fingers. "I'm sure miss Sunny would mind you all staring at her nethers."

"She wouldn't mind me," En joked, batting her eyelashes. It was a joke, but she really would rather stay than just wait in the next room for the news. And Ringo flatly said, "She won't mind me either

The doctor made a single shooing gesture. "Out!"

With much complaining, En and Ringo joined Melissa and Meyers who already stood outside on the walkway, smoking a cigarette. "Swiped those off your night stand," Melissa matter-of-factly told Ringo, holding up the packet. Silently, but with an icy glare, Ringo took one of his own smokes out of the packet, snatched Melissa's cigarette out of her mouth, and used it to light his. Then he silently jabbed the cigarette back into Melissa's mouth. Melissa only chuckled, her lips pressed together to hold the smoke.

En nudged Ringo with her elbow. "It was no small feat getting that Auto-Doc over here. Melissa pulled her muscles sore dragging that bed here."

At this, Ringo at least permitted himself to smile and say, "Keep the pack, Melissa. Sunny thanks you, and so do I."

Melissa punched Ringo's shoulder. "That's alright, you vinegar pisser."

"I wasn't very hungry until now," Ringo said, "but now I feel my stomach growling, to be honest. And that rancher man put some steaks in the fridge last evening. Haven't had a chance to dig into them though."

"Got a deal for you all," Meyers said. "How 'bout I cook those steaks for you, if I can have one?"

"Sure," En agreed. "Not like Sunny will eat hers anytime soon, right?"

Ringo didn't seem too on-board with the idea of letting some guy he'd never seen before eat Sunny's steak, but apparently En's argument made enough sense. "Yeah. Suppose so."

Melissa exhaled a smoke cloud. "But what if I wanted two steaks? I did lug that doctor machine around all on my own, after all."

En had gotten to know her well enough to realize she was just being mischievous, but Ringo, apparently, hadn't. With a glare, he said to Melissa, "How about I throw all the steaks in the trash, then no one has to quarrel over Sunny's piece?"

Melissa laughed and punched his shoulder. "Lighten up, stuffy-man. I'm just pullin' your leg."

All Ringo had to say to that was, "It's been a stressful twenty-four hours."

"Sunny will be fine, Ringo," En calmed him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We're just goofing around."

Ringo flicked his cigarette butt over the railing and grunted, "Best get to your culinary duties, unknown old person."

"I most certainly will."

Silently, Melissa lit another cigarette and offered Ringo one from his erstwhile pack, grinning with the cigarette between her lips. Ringo sighed, shook his head and took one.

"I'll help," En said to Meyers, mostly to have something to do while the Auto-Doc did its grisly and messy work. Despite keeping a confident face, she wasn't all that assured of the good outcome of the Auto-Doc's procedure. Sunny's legs had been messed up bad, and En didn't know much about medicine, but both the state of her legs and the grimace on Strauss' face when she'd first seen the damage didn't inspire much confidence. Then again, she'd heard a lot about Auto-Docs, supposedly they could work miracles on injured body parts. Hell, she'd read in the history of New Arroyo that doctor Brannigan had once excised and replaced an entire knee joint with one.

Meyers silently accepted her offer of assistance with a curt nod, then asked Ringo, "Where's the kitchen?"

"You can use the one in the hotel lobby. Steaks are in the fridge there too."

The lobby wasn't really worthy of the name, it was more like a reception desk with a sofa full of holes dumped against the wall. This was where the old biddy had first greeted them, before getting her head blown off. How anyone could work in a place that had bright yellow walls and not go home with melted eyes every day, En didn't know.

At least the back room had walls painted in broken white, so that was at least tolerable. Meyers went straight for the fridge and pulled out the paper package containing the steaks, plopping it down on the counter. They looked like big s.o.b.'s. Then again, if En couldn't finish hers, she was certain there'd be candidates enough to do it for her.

"Right," Meyers announced. "The secret to cookin' a good steak is having a red-hot pan."

He pulled a pan from the cupboard, inspected it for cleanness, and clanged it down on the stove. A lump of butter from the fridge went in, and with a _whoof_, the gas stove went on. "So we let our pan get nice and hot first. No point rushing it because we're hungry."

"And sleepy," En yawned. She checked the time on her Pip-boy. Four fifty. Damn, almost morning.

Meyers chuckled. "If there's one thing I could get plenty of in the isolation cell, it's sleepin'." He searched the cupboard for species, and let out a triumphant "Aha!" when he found a pepper mill and a salt shaker. "Not much, but it'll do. I'm assumin' everyone likes his steaks medium-rare?"

"Uh… I guess?" En had no idea what the whole ruleset for pan-frying steaks was. As long as it wasn't raw, it was fine by her.

"Now," Meyers went on, "our pan's nice and hot, now we throw the steaks on there."

He added deed to word, and the steaks sizzled and sang loudly as the heat of the pan cauterized the meat. White smoke rose from the pan, and the smell of grilled meat made En's stomach growl. And presumably, Meyers' stomach even harder.

"Like I said," Meyers explained, "we can't give in to our hunger and rush things. We need to take it slow. Count down three minutes on your fancy wrist watch contraption, please, young lady?"

Four fifty-one. "Alrighty."

"We let 'em cook for three minutes, no more, and then we flip 'em."

"You uh, seem to know your steaks?" En asked.

"Sure do. When you're the sheriff of a far away town, it's no easy life. You owe it to yourself to at least provide yourself with decent nourishment."

"True, I guess. Two more minutes."

He nodded. "So tell me, that man who shot you, what was it about? Did you have it comin'?"

Of course she hadn't 'had it coming'! What kind of question was that? "I don't mean to play the innocent little girl-card here, but how could I possibly have a shot in the head coming? At sixteen?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. In my experience, no age, race, or gender has the monopoly on cause for execution, unfortunately. But yeah, from what I've seen of you, I assume you didn't deserve what happened to you. Sorry, it's just a habit of mine to question everything people say. But it was a stupid question, I apologize."

"That's alright, I suppose it's better to ask and know than to remain silent and wonder."

"True, that. So what happened?"

"One minute. Uh, I was paid to deliver a package somewhere in the Mojave, first to Primm, and then I'd get more details. But I was ambushed near the town of Goodsprings, don't know if you know it?"

Meyers nodded. "Heard of it."

"Well, I was jumped… err, in the non-sexual way, by three people. Two Khans led by some guy in a checkered suit. Name of Benny. They stole my package and put me on my knees, and, well… bang."

"Bastards," Meyers breathed, looking sincerely shocked. "Any idea why they shot you? Just plain old villainy?"

"Don't think so. The guy even said sorry, but that it had to be done."

"But why would they shoot you after stealing your stuff? Doesn't make sense. Once you have what you want, no point executing the one you stole it from, unless someone might come looking for it." Meyers scratched his bearded chin.

"Like the original addressee of the package."

"M-hm. But that must mean it's something important, something you might not necessarily want to get your hands on…"

"… but that you definitely want someone else to keep their hands off," En completed. "That's actually a good reasoning. Maybe Benny didn't want the chip to himself, maybe he just wanted to prevent someone else from getting a hold of it. Time to flip."

The steaks all but forgotten, Meyers absently turned the meat over and lowered the heat of the stove. "How did you even survive?"

She laughed, thinking back of her time in Mitchell's house and Goodsprings. "With a lot of luck. And a doctor who patched me up."

"A lot of luck indeed. With just a scar and the occasional seizure to show for it?"

"I would callit 'just'," En said with a sigh, "but yeah. So now I'm looking for the man who did it."

Meyers nodded fiercely. "Give him a taste of his own medicine."

"Mmmnot really. I'd like to get some answers, really. I'll see what I do then."

"What, you'd honestly consider letting that guy live?" He frowned, disapproving. "These people deserve no mercy, young lady."

"I just… haven't thought about it yet, I suppose," En simply said. "And anyway, it's my choice, and no one else's. I don't care what other people think. Same way I didn't care when I decided to spare M – " she cut herself off. No need for Meyers to know, Melissa was already dragging enough with her from what she did. No need to have even more people judging her.

"Spare who?"

"No matter," she lied. "Someone we came across a few days ago."

He sighed, taking care to sound as disappointed as he could. "I've never believed in mercy, myself. People come to depend on it, come to see it as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Show someone mercy, and he'll never learn not to do it again."

She shrugged. "That's your opinion, not mine." The living proof of her thoughts on the subjects stood on the walkway above.

Meyers took a fork and jabbed it into one of the steaks. "Just a little longer." Then he turned back to En. "Well, I'm not goin' anywhere for a while. And I'm outraged at what happened to a nice girl like you. If you need some help trackin' this miscreant down, I'll be happy to join?"

He was welcome, but En couldn't really make that decision alone. "I appreciate that. I'll check with the others, see if they're okay with it, but I don't see a problem." She gave him a smile to make sure he understood she wanted to check with everyone to make sure, and that it wasn't a 'we'll see'-type of reply.

"Of course," he grinned back. "Wouldn't want to invite myself if not everyone agrees."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She yawned again. "Damn I'm tired."

"Come on," Meyers cheered, sliding the meat off the pan and onto four plates. "Nunc est edendum."

"Uh, what?"

"Now, it's time to eat."

"Oh. Right."

They carried the steaks up to the motel room, silently making the decision to eat in the rooms. It'd be a bit uncomfortable on the beds, but at least they'd be together and have the opportunity to chat a bit (and flop down on the bed and sleep where they lay). Strauss just emerged from Sunny's room as they came up.

"Ugh. How can you eat at this hour?"

"Just need to be hungry enough," En answered. "Interest you in a piece?"

She held up her hands, grimacing. "No thanks. Bah. I'll just go back to bed instead."

"Sleep well, doctor, and thanks for the help."

She nodded, passing En and Meyers on the walkway. "That's perfectly alright. Hope your friend gets better."

"She will. She has to."

"That's the right attitude. Enjoy your meal."

Melissa and Ringo had been silently standing next to each other until now, their elbows on the balcony, smoking their cigarettes, but when they saw En and Meyers coming with the steaks, their silence promptly evaporated and they both let loose with a loud cheer.

"Gimme the largest piece," Melissa demanded. "I can't wait to bog in!" And without even waiting to be given a plate, she snatched the one with the biggest steak out of En's hands, and with a roaring laugh, jumped on one of the beds and scoffed it down with her bare hands, tearing chunks off it with her teeth.

Ringo was a bit more reserved, but still more than eager enough, taking Meyers' second plate and flinging himself down on Sunny's bed, but at least taking the time to grab the knife and fork Meyers held between his fingers.

To the tune of Melissa's voracious snarling, Ringo cut a piece of meat off, and said, impressed. "Perfectly cooked, you two. And still nice and succulent."

Meyers took a bow and sat down on the other bed, next to Melissa. "Hey, I'm gettin' a free steak. Cookin' it well is really the least I could do."

"He's got a point," En said, sitting down next to Ringo and digging in. Ringo had been right, the meat was perfectly done, pink in the centre, not charred on the outside. The smell made her stomach growl with such intensity it was almost painful, and she cut off a piece, chewing it with her eyes closed and enjoying the taste. It might very well have been the best piece of meat she'd ever had as it rolled around in her mouth, juicy and perfectly peppered. Even her omnipresent headache temporarily calmed down.

"Now _this_ is appreciation," Meyers jerked her from her ecstasy and she opened her eyes, letting the headache return. Meyers held his hand out toward her. "Silent, closed-eyed enjoyment. There is no bigger compliment than this."

"You mean an overdramatic orgasm-face?" Melissa asked through a mouthful of beef. Her mouth and chin were completely smeared with grease, as were her hands.

En felt heat rise to her head as she turned red. Making herself small, she apologetically said, "It's just really good meat." It came out quiet and whimpering, but that was only to be expected. She really didn't like sexual remarks aimed at her.

"That's alright, young lady," Meyers laughed. "Your approval of my cooking is most appreciated."

"So hey," En said to the others, changing the subject. "Meyers here would like to come with us. Everyone okay with that?"

Melissa shrugged, still devouring her steak. "Why not, I s'pose."

Ringo thought for a second, cutting off some more meat. "I'm not sure. Hard to say if I don't know you. What happened to you that you ended up in Powder Ganger uniform?"

Meyers chuckled. "Before it was a Powder Ganger uniform, it was regular prisoner clothing."

"Your explanation is not exactly a big step in the right direction."

Meyers still found it all pretty humorous. "I was incarcerated on a trumped-up charge. Supposedly because I took the law into my own hands once too many."

"So you're some kind of loose cannon vigilante then?"

He took another bite and shook his head. "No sir, I was the sheriff of a town up North before I was thrown in jail. And I say again, the charge was ridiculous. Yes, I shot a man, but if I hadn't, he'd have killed a lot more people."

"Self-defence then?" Ringo insisted.

Meyers didn't seem to want to be evasive. "No. A murderer who'd already killed three people in my town. NCR put up a temporary court to try him, but no one dared to testify, and eventually the bastard was acquitted. I simply did what the courts couldn't."

Ringo didn't seem to understand. "But if he wasn't convicted, then he was innocent, yes?"

All Meyers responded to that was a raised eyebrow. Melissa snorted when she heard it.

"What?"

Meyers thought for a moment. "Courts don't always get it right. This man _was_ the killer. People had _seen_ him do it. But no one dared to speak up. What was I supposed to do, let him walk free so he could kill again?"

"What if you were wrong?"

"I wasn't."

"So you had proof?"

"Obviously not, or the NCR court would have convicted him."

"So you weren't sure?"

Meyers chuckled again. "Trust me, I was sure. And I don't regret killing that crazy bastard, not for a minute."

"But it was unjust," Ringo pressed on. "You can't be judge, jury and executioner at once."

"I can if it means keeping the people of my town safe."

Ringo sniffed and looked away. "I find this all very hard to stomach."

"Look, um," En moderated. "The past's in the past, right? Maybe we don't all agree with the way in which, but the man did what he felt was right. And I think he'll be a welcome addition. Just the way he cooks makes him alright in my book."

Ringo looked up from his plate and at En. "I'm not certain of this, to be honest, but if you vouch for this man, then I trust you."

She smiled back at him. "Thanks."

"Well," Meyers announced cheerfully, "glad to be part of the group."

Melissa pointed at En's steak. "You finishin' that?"


	21. Between Ordeals

**.**

**TWENTY-ONE**

**Novac, Motel Room**

**July 3rd**

**09:52**

En opened her eyes and looked at the motel room ceiling, lit by the bright sunlight that fell in through the windows and made her head pound. Her legs felt heavy, but that was because they hung outside the bed. And she was still wearing her clothes.

Right, she'd given the remainder of her steak to Melissa and then laid back to close her eyes for a few minutes. Looked like those minutes had become a few hours.

Aside from the constant headache, she felt rather well for having stayed up all night. She looked at her Pip-boy. Almost ten. That meant she'd slept for what, four hours and a half? She'd had shorter nights.

Grimacing from the taste in her mouth, she sat up on the bed, which of course made the headache-friend inside her hear speak a little louder. Her back was sore from sleeping in the awkward position, but that would probably go away after a while. Ringo lay on the other bed, on his side, his mouth wide open. Melissa had, for some reason, ended up on the floor, sleeping quietly on her back, her hands folded across her belly, using the motel bible as a headrest. Next to her was Cheyenne, a gnawed bit of bone discarded next to her muzzle. Through the window, she saw Meyers standing outside, smoking a pipe. Where had he found a pipe?

She groaned loudly (so what if she woke somebody up) and scratched her head. Her short hair probably stood in all directions. Whatever.

She got out of bed, her joints cracking, stretched and trudged to the door.

"Mornin'," Meyers greeted, puffing his pipe. "You look radiant."

"Hey. Yeah, I know. Where'd you get a pipe?"

He chuckled, sending puffs of blue smoke into the pleasant warm morning air. "It was one of the things I brought back from NCRCF. Holier-than-thou NCR pricks took it from me when they locked me in."

Right, the paper-wrapped packet. "Must have been some important stuff if you hauled it all the way back here." Well, technically, Melissa had hauled it, but yeah, same difference.

"They are things of no value," Meyers said mysteriously, "and at the same time, immensely valuable."

"Hey, hey," En protested. "I'm the secretive one around here, that's my job."

He smiled. "It's just personal things. Sentimental value, you know?"

Unsatisfied, En settled for a low "Mmmm."

"Anyway, shouldn't someone check on your friend?"

Shit, yeah, Sunny! She'd been in that Auto-Doc for hours now, more than enough time for the thing to complete its procedure. What if she'd woken up inside it and thought she'd been buried alive?

She hurried inside the other motel room and saw the screen of the Auto-Doc pulsing in red.

PROCECURE COMPLETED

HIT OPEN BUTTON

Without thinking, En put her fist down on the button, and with a hydraulic hiss, the Auto-Doc's lid slowly opened. Sunny's legs were bandaged, and En quickly threw the white sheet over them (and the exposed private Sunny-parts) so she lay in the Auto-Doc, looking like she was simply sleeping. She was still out from the anaesthesia the Auto-Doc had administered, but now, with a beep, the Auto-Doc's screen announced in green letters:

ADMINISTERING STIMULANTS

**IMPORTANT! **DO NOT REMOVE PATIENT UNTIL THIS MESSAGE DISAPPEARS

After a minute or so, Sunny's eyelids fluttered.

The 'do not remove patient'-message was still there, and a new one had appeared under it.

AWAKENING CYCLE PHASE 1 OF 3 COMPLETED

En waited a few minutes longer, and then Sunny began mumbling incoherently and her eyes opened slightly. The awakening cycle message changed to phase 2 completed.

Sunny slowly opened her eyes, looking unable to focus, her eyes slowly rolling around in their sockets. Her tongue lazily licked her lips and her fingers slowly moved.

"Hey Sunny!"

There was no response apart from Sunny's dark brown eyes trying to focus on the origin of the voice.

As the minutes went on, Sunny slowly awakened, and another beep sounded.

**IMPORTANT! **DO NOT REMOVE PATIENT UNTIL THIS MESSAGE DISAPPEARS

AWAKENING CYCLE PHASE 3 OF 3 COMPLETED

NOW COUNTING DOWN SAFE TIME FOR PATIENT REMOVAL

Right. It was probably too early to let Sunny get up or remove her from the Auto-Doc.

"En, that you sweetie?" Sunny's voice rasped.

"Hey Sunny! Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"

Sunny smacked her lips and woozily looked around. "Like I stepped on a mine."

Hm, so she remembered. "Yeah, you got us all worried here. Doc said you're going to be okay though."

"Cheyenne okay?" she asked, her eyes fixing on En.

"She's fine. Few scratches and bruises, but she looked perfectly healthy when she gnawed on Ringo's leftover steak last night."

Sunny groaned and laid a hand on her forehead. "How long was I gone?"

En had to sigh and look at the ceiling as she counted the time. It felt as if a year had passed, but it was only a day, really. "Not long. Just a day. Me and Melissa pulled an all-nighter to get this old Auto-Doc to your bed," she said, not without pride.

"Hm, guess I should thank the intolerable shrew for that."

"You should. She hauled that ten ton thing all the way here from NCRCF."

Sunny flapped her hand feebly. "I'll remember to say thanks, don't worry. And you too, sweetie. Thank you."

"Hey, we're B.F.F., right?" En said with a grin.

"I still don't know what the Hell that means."

"Doesn't matter. So anyway, not in too much pain?"

It seemed like it was only then that Sunny realized she _should_ be in pain after what had happened yesterday. She frowned, propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at her blanket-covered legs. "Actually, no. My legs still feel weird… stretched, somehow, but pain, no, not much."

"Could be the sedation still working?"

"Mm. Maybe."

"I see you were impatient enough to already start the awakening cycle without me?" Dr. Strauss' voice came from the doorway.

"Yeah, sorry," En admitted sheepishly. "I was just afraid she might wake up still inside that thing, and well, you know…"

Strauss chuckled. "Those Auto-docs have safeties built in to avoid that. They'll keep the patient in a coma, and if that's impossible, they'll start the awakening cycle themselves."

En shrugged. "Machine said it was ready, so I figured it wouldn't do any harm to go ahead."

"I should slap you on the back of the head for that," Strauss scolded, "but I suppose I can understand how you feel."

"Yeah," En said, "just a note to my parents in my diary will do."

Strauss made a disapproving face at En and then said to Sunny, "Let's take a look at those legs, shall we?"

En could tell Sunny was afraid to look, but she kept a brave face and nodded nonetheless. "Okay. En can stay, it's alright."

"M-hm."

En watched as Strauss cut the fresh bandages the Auto-doc had applied. The doctor kept the bandages in place, however, and only when they were both cut open did she ask Sunny. "You ready?"

Sunny bit her lip. "No, but this has to be done."

En winced as Strauss folded the bandages open and showed the state of Sunny's legs. The skin was somehow reassembled and put back together, and the muscles beneath looked to be in place again, but the skin on Sunny's shins and lower thighs was a spider web of jagged, bright red tears that had been… glued, it almost looked like, back together, so the texture of Sunny's skin looked to be plastic, or even waxen. As if there was a smooth, shiny, transparent coating on top of her skin, with the red tears beneath. Sunny let out an inarticulate whimper when she saw it, and her eyes teared up. En could do nothing else than hold Sunny's hand. Poor Sunny.

"The worst will still fade," Strauss quickly assured. "Most important thing is that the Auto-doc made your legs usable again."

"They look… hideous," Sunny whined, laying her free hand over her eyes. Her lower lip trembled.

More slowly now, Strauss repeated, "It won't stay this way, dear. Trust me, it'll get better. I won't lie, you'll still see them, they won't disappear entirely, but it won't stay like this. They'll heal over, become scar tissue, and that'll fade in time."

"Yeah," En made an attempt to brighten the mood. "Scars add character right?"

"Shut up, En," Sunny snapped.

En felt her stomach knot at Sunny's sharpness. She rarely, if ever, called her by her first name, and she'd never used that tone with her before. Having Sunny mad at her felt awful. "Hey, Sunny, I was just saying – "

"I know, but I really don't need your immature attempts at cheerfulness now." She still held a hand over her eyes. "If that's all you can offer, then I rather you go outside and be a child there."

It was En's turn to have her eyes tear up. "Sunny, come on, I'm just – "

Her eyes still shielded, she turned her head away. "Go away, En. You're not helping. Get out."

Strauss looked up at En and gently said, "I think it's best you leave, dear. Not because you did something wrong. Don't take this too hard, I know you're trying to help."

En stood up, feeling miserable. "I just thought..."

The doctor smiled at her. "I know, it's alright, just give your friend a moment."

En sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and walked out.

"Is she awake?" Ringo asked, looking nervous and sick with worry. Then he saw the look on En's face. "Is it… that bad?"

"It's… not as bad as it looks," En said, even though she didn't know what to think. "It's just… Sunny's pretty mad at me, I think."

Ringo had already half-shouldered past her to go see, but he checked and asked, "Mad at you? Why would she be mad at you?"

En shrugged, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I don't know… probably because all this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me."

"Hey!" Ringo commanded, jabbing a finger at her. "This situation is dire enough without people feeling guilty for no reason, alright? This was due to no fault of yours."

"I guess."

He squeezed her shoulder impatiently. "Don't guess, _know_. We cannot start doubting or second-guessing ourselves now. Sunny might be unpredictable right now, but she needs us at our most reliable. Can I count on you?"

The man was right. Sunny wasn't being herself (she hoped!), but the best way to help her deal with it was to appear stable and strong. So she nodded and said, "You can always count on me."

He gave an approving nod. "Lovely." And with that, he knocked on the motel room door. Cheyenne followed at his heel.

Melissa had found her way back to the waking world too, and came out on the balcony, fishing a cigarette out of the pack she'd leeched off Ringo. "She all hunky-dorey?"

"Hunky what?" En didn't have the courage to start deciphering her weird-ass vocabulary.

Melissa lit her cigarette and looked out over the courtyard, leaning on the railing. "Is she alright?"

"Oh." En came to stand next to her, putting her elbows on the railing too, looking at the morning sun. "Yeah, I mean, her legs should still work, but they look pretty beat-up."

"Imagine they do."

"She's… not taking it well."

Melissa took a drag, and casually asked, "Rotten to you, was she?"

"Kinda. Guess I can't blame her for it."

She blew out smoke in a chuckle. "Don't take it personally. People who get badly hurt often lash out at the people closest to them. No need to be hard on yourself."

Melissa was right, of course, and En's mind was put somewhat at ease, but she'd still feel a lot better if Sunny took a moment to recover and tell En she hadn't meant what she'd said.

Melissa clapped a hard but friendly arm around her shoulder. "It'll be fine, you sook. Stop frettin', alright?"

"Yeah, you're right. No point beating myself up over it."

"Bloody oath. 'Sides, people always get tetchy over their first scars. The more you get, the less you care. It's always scary an' hard to deal with, first time you come a gutser, but it gets easier every time."

"Uh… yeah."

It was only now that En noticed Melissa had taken the bandages off her burns. They were now dark pink, palm-sized patches of rough, raw skin that contrasted with her tan skin tone. What a bunch of scarred misfits they were.

Melissa was apparently thinking the same thing. "I reckon we should take one of Ringo's eyes out or somethin'. His skin's still far too smooth compared to ours."

"M-hm," En agreed, gradually finding her good cheer back. "Or lop off a finger or two."

With a grin, Melissa said, "Let's just stick to fingers then, though. Sunny might get mad if we take off certain extremities she still has a use for."

"Ew," En merely said, still grinning. Sunny and Ringo bumping pelvises wasn't exactly a thought she liked to have taking up residence in her head.

"Hey, by the way, jillaroo?"

"Yeah?"

Somewhat embarrassed, Melissa said, "I really need some new clobber."

"Errr… you need someone new to hit over the head?"

Melissa tugged the lapel of her leather jacket. "Clothes. I mean, I'm beginnin' to stink even by _my _standards. And I think I've got pikin' mushrooms growin' in my under-chunders."

"Lovely."

"That, and my socks are beginnin' to house all kinds of interestin' flora an' fungi."

En chuckled, Sunny's harshness temporarily forgotten. "Alright, we'll go buy you some uh… clobber, or whatever you call it. I'm sure there's some kind of general store in town."

"Just grundies is fine. I'm attached to my leather."

"Yeah, I figured. So where's the old guy?"

Melissa jerked her head toward the door of the room they'd slept in. "In there. Readin' a book."

"Hey Meyers?" En called to him.

"Yeah?"

"Me and Melissa are going into town for a sec. You staying put?"

A scolding voice came from the motel room. "Melissa _and me_. Melissa _and_ _I_, in fact. But yeah, I'm stayin' here."

"Cool."

"He and Ringo should get along," Melissa remarked. "Competing to see who can linguistically out-stuffy the other."

En got a mental image of Ringo and Meyers sitting at a coffee table, drinking tea with their pinkies in the air and wearing Victorian suits, monocles and top hats, going "Oh I say" to each other, Ringo being prissy about Meyers' sloppiness in pronouncing –ing forms, and Meyers telling Ringo to cease using those damned americanisms.

"C'mon, jillaroo, we need to buy some food anyway. We still got the caps we got from our ranchin' friend."

Dusty was more than willing to part with some fine brahmin sirloins at a reasonable price, and there was even a general store in town that sold a modest selection of clothing. Melissa categorically insisted she only wanted fresh underwear and a few T-shirts (which, she assured, she'd immediately cut the arms and collars off anyway), and nothing else, repeating her desire to stay true to her leather. En noticed she'd cut the Great Khans logo off her back and the embroidered GREAT KHANS- and MEMBER-strips off the front, but she didn't mention it.

Skeptically, Melissa held up a pair of lace panties, with only the groin area made in opaque fabric. "I think these are my _size_, but…"

En giggled. "Not really your style."

Melissa made a sour face. "Not really."

"They'd show off your butt pretty well, though?"

Melissa grunted and threw the panties back on the shelf. "Not really something I'd show off with."

"We could always restyle you?" En suggested, grinning mischievously. "Make your femininity blossom and radiate?" She danced over to one of the tables and held up a short denim skirt. "Show a bit of leg…" she snatched up a sleeveless T-shirt in stretch fabric and held it up to her. "… make your curves stand out more?"

"With _these_ arms? Yeah, that'll look good." Melissa was only half-amused. "No thanks, I'll stick with my man-bitch outfit."

Exaggerating her disappointed look, En let her hands drop. "Nothing wrong with looking a bit feminine."

"…Says the tool belt-wearing tomboy."

En cocked her head. "I said _a bit_ feminine. Besides, I don't mind dressing nice every once in a while. When I'm not travelling and getting shot at. In fact…" She held up the sleeveless white T-shirt and short skirt to herself. "I think I'll try these on myself."

"Sure, give it a burl."

"I will."

The store clerk, a young woman of around twenty, had remained silent until now, letting them browse without bothering them (an attitude En wished more store attendants would adopt), but now she came forward and said, "Changing booths are over there, miss."

En hung her tool belt on a convenient hook on the booth wall and changed. The T-shirt was just her size, though a bit stretchy around the boobs, and the skirt fit perfectly too. She stepped back into her boots without tying the laces and looked at herself in the tall mirror. To be entirely honest, she looked pretty classy, the skirt drawing just enough attention to her thighs, but not short enough to be cheap or vulgar, and the T-shirt enhancing what little feminine curves she had. "So? So?" she asked Melissa. "What do you think?"

Melissa stood looking at her without saying anything. Not exactly a sign of approval. Maybe she didn't look as stylish as she thought.

"Come on, it can't be _that_ bad."

"Uh, no, no… you look nice." There was a strange expression on Melissa's face. A sort of wistful, almost sad look that was only barely perceptible. It made En feel rather uncomfortable.

The store attendant, however, was much less opaque in her opinion. "It would be a crime if you didn't buy these, if I may say so, miss." She was a pretty thing, around En's age, with long brown hair cut into straight bangs in front.

"Uh… how much are they?"

The clerk's smile widened. "Skirt's seventy, and the shirt's eighty. But I'll let you have them both for a hundred and forty."

They still had the cash given to them by Dusty McBride, but buying the clothes would eat up two thirds of the caps they still had left. And that super mutant's machine gun was eaten by rust and one cap short of worthless. On the other hand, she did look sharp in them, if she said so herself.

"Go on," Melissa encouraged her. "They'll understand."

"Yeah," En still doubted, "but it doesn't leave us with a lot of cash, and it's our money so I shouldn't spend it on myself."

Melissa went back to rummaging through the ladies' underwear box. "Just buy 'em, you sook. If they do their blocks, just tell them I threatened to beat you up if you didn't."

That settled it, then. "Alright, I guess. If it'd be a crime to leave them, then I'll be a good and law-abiding citizen."

She counted off a hundred and forty caps (damn Wastes still using those unwieldy bottle caps instead of the actual currency used in New Arroyo and the West) and scooped up her heavy leather, draping it over her arm along with her tool belt. Melissa, in the meantime, had found two pairs of panties, and a bra which had been given the nod after a quick inspection of the size on the tag.

"I'll throw those in for free," the attendant said, still smiling. "We don't get customers often, so might as well treat them right. And it's not like I still have a boss to care about."

"Why's that?" Melissa asked, stuffing the underwear in a plastic bag.

"The um, owner of this place was Jeanie May," the girl said. "So yeah, she won't be coming around anymore."

Looked like this girl had just inherited her own clothing store at the age of sixteen. "I'd say sorry for your loss," En began, "but…"

"Yeah, she was always fair to me, if a bit stingy, but what she did to Boone's wife, well, can't say I feel bad for her."

"Well, uh, good luck on your new store, then?"

"Thanks. And you two, good luck on, errr, whatever it is you're doing."

As they walked out, Melissa said, "We do what everyone else in the Wastes does, babe. Survivin'."

"Can I order you a sunset to ride into, Melissa?" En asked.

"No, I'm good." But then her eye fell on something hanging from a hook on the wall. "Speaking of sunsets! How much is this, babe?"

The store girl made a throw-away gesture. "Go on, it's free. Consider it the welcoming gift to my very first, very own clients."

Melissa pointed her index finger at the girl with a wink. "Ace, babe!"

The midday sun was scorching hot again, but at least the girly clothes En had bought provided some relief from the usual airtight leather pressure cooker she found herself trapped in during these hot hours. Her heavy combat boots looked comically mismatched with the stylish outfit she wore now, but can't have it all.

"Whoa-hoa," Ringo called out as they reached the courtyard, leaning on the railing, holding a beer bottle. "Now _there's_ a change."

Meyers had taken his chair outside and was reading his book in the sun, on the walkway next to Ringo.

"Yeah," Melissa called back." Who'd have thought there was a girl underneath all those tools and leathers?"

En swallowed the remark that she was one to talk.

"Oh, I always knew there was one there, it's just refreshing to actually _see _it. You look lovely, miss En."

En curtseyed as well as she could in her short skirt. "How's Sunny?"

Ringo took a breath and set his beer bottle to his lips. "She'll pull through. Resting now. Doctor Drug Pusher informed me that the worst of the injuries will fade, so Sunny's fatalistic disposition is mostly unjustified."

"She'll still be healin' right?" Melissa asked, calling up to the walkway.

"M-hm. At least a day, then the Auto-doc's accelerated healing should return her to mostly-hale condition."

"Means we've got some time to spare," En said, coming up the stairs. "No point heading for Boulder City just yet, might as well take a day off, right?"

"I suppose there's nothing else for it," Ringo said with a sigh. "Though I'm not sure I'm comfortable with us lounging about while Sunny – "

Ringo was interrupted by a deafening roar overhead, and reflexively ducked his head as three odd rocket-like things passed overhead. They looked like enormous child's toys, completely unaerodynamic and painted in silly colours, but they flew, making a deafening noise as they did so. One briefly looked like it'd fall out of the sky and crash into the motel, but it corrected its course, and with a roar, got back into formation with the others, and all three went over the motel roof, and off into the sky.

En, Melissa and Ringo stood dumbstruck, and even Meyers had been torn away from his book, looking at the sky.

"Three weird-ass rocket things just passed overhead, right?" En asked, breaking the silence. "I mean, I didn't imagine this or anything?"

"As funny as it would be to act as if we didn't see anything," Melissa said, "yeah, we saw it too. That was some shonky business right there."

Meyers clapped his book closed and rose. "This calls for an expedition, wouldn't you say?"

Ringo could only reply with, "Um…"

"Yes it does," Meyers agreed with himself. "Who knows what we'll discover?"

"They have to have been launched from a pad or something," En thought out loud. "So that means there's a lot of operational tech still working there. Definitely worth checking out."

Melissa slapped her shoulder. "But _not_ in the miss-hoity-toity clobber you're wearin' now, jillaroo."

"We'll leave when our young driving force has changed clothes," Meyers decided.

Ringo drained his beer and turned back to Sunny's room. "Without me. Sunny shouldn't be left alone."

"Yeah," En said, "guess that's understandable. I can stay with her if you like?"

"No, it's fine. Circumstances being what they are, we have some time to get to know each other."

"Go on," Melissa ordered En, poking a finger in her lower back. "Get your ooh-la-la rags off and go back to wearin' somethin' functional, yeah?"

En quickly changed back into the heavy leather gear she'd got from Sunny, hooked her tool belt around her waist and joined Melissa and Meyers in the courtyard.

"Ready?" Melissa asked her.

"M-hm."

"Let's head on out then," Meyers said, "see what the cause of this strange phenomenon was."

Melissa grinned. "By the way, we bought you somethin'."

Meyers put a hand on his chest. "A present? For me? I'm touched."

"You better be," Melissa said, taking the crumpled present out of the plastic bag and tossing it over to Meyers.

"Well I'll be," Meyers breathed, his awe genuine this time. "that's a fine gift indeed, ladies!"

"Go on," En said. "Put it on!"

With an idiotic proud grin, Meyers put the Stetson on his head.


	22. Uncharted Worlds

**.**

**TWENTY-TWO**

**Somewhere in the Mojave desert**

**July 3rd**

**12:46**

"We're lost, I tell you," Melissa remarked flatly. "Need to brush up on your map-readin', jillaroo."

"I know exactly where we are," En lied, as obviously as she could. They'd walked in the direction of the strange rocket-like things, but they hadn't found anything so far, and the more they blundered around, the less accurate their memories of the launch location became. And yeah, they were lost. En's Pip-boy was acting seriously funny, as if it was purposefully losing their signal at the worst possible moments. "Real men don't stop for directions."

"Yep, I know where we are too," Meyers agreed. "We're at that place with the rocks and the sand."

"I think", Melissa muttered, scanning the area, "that we're close to bunker valley as it happens."

"What's bunker valley?" En asked.

"A valley," Melissa answered. "With bunkers."

"Right."

"Lot of sandstorms there though," Melissa said. Indeed, the winds had become a bit more aggressive, making sand whirl around their boots. "Really strange phenomenon, that. Terribly localized, and they only started a year or two ago."

Meyers stopped walking. "I've never heard of sandstorms appearing so suddenly, and so localized."

En thought she heard a woman's voice screaming, in the distance. Hm, probably her imagination. "Me neither."

Melissa shrugged. "Well, that's the way it is."

The voice screamed again, this time En didn't doubt it was real. Both Meyers and Melissa had noticed it too, cocking their heads.

"Someone's in trouble," En said, and broke into a run toward the sound, both Melissa and Meyers shouting at her not to run so fast. She heard their footsteps behind her though, so she knew they followed.

En darted between two big rocks and emerged on the edge of a small valley that gradually went downhill from where she was, but went up at a steep incline once it had reached its deepest point, turning it into a sort of tear-drop shaped depression. And in the valley floor stood a tall white rock, with two people who'd apparently climbed on top of it. And as Melissa skidded to a halt beside her, she could see why.

At the base of the rock were three radscorpions, smaller versions, looking almost yellow in colour, but still the size of a respectable dog, trying to climb up, lashing their stinger-tipped tails at the person who was lowest on the rock. Said individual dodged the lashes by clumsily jerking his legs away.

"I know where we are now," Melissa said cheerfully. "That little bowl there's called Scorpion Gulch. Guess why. Go on, guess."

"Because of the scorpions?" Meyers panted, slowing to a stop.

Melissa merely nodded. "Spot on, slowpoke. Don't know what those two drongos thought they'd find here."

The two 'drongos' were a man and a woman, the man with black skin and a buzzcut, and the woman with bright blonde hair. The girl had climbed on top of the rock, but the man was struggling to get higher, kicking at the radscorpions. Another panicked scream came from the valley, high-pitched and actually rather comical.

"They seem to be perfectly fearless," Meyers remarked dryly, panting and supporting his hands on his knees.

"Let's give them a hand though," En said, raising her XM-21 and peering through the scope. There was another high-pitched scream.

"Damn," Melissa said. "That chick can screech."

En fired her rifle, the bullet flawlessly finding its way, striking the first radscorpion in the thorax. En saw a gray object flash past her scope, and the second radscorpion was knocked down from the boulder by the rock the woman had thrown. Focusing on the closest scorpion first, En fired again, blowing its head apart. The critter hit with the rock had tumbled down and flailed its legs trying to get up, but the last shot from En's rifle ended its struggle.

"Damn, cowgirl," Meyers told her, "You shoot like a champ."

"Oh yeah," Melissa commented. "She's the best shot in the world if the other guys don't shoot back."

She knew it was meant to yank her chain rather than actually hurt her, but En still said, "Come on, Melissa. I'm working on it."

Melissa grinned, looking amused at the people clumsily climbing down from their boulder. "I know, you little sook."

"Well," Meyers said, "whatever the case, we can now be heroes and accept our well-earned thanks. Even though only one of us actually did anything."

"Which means," En said proudly, "that any medals go to me, and me alone."

"Pretty certain that these two don't have many medals to give," Melissa muttered. "Need to be more 'n a bit stupid to start snoopin' around down there."

"Indeed," Meyers said, still doubled over. "Pits like those are always dangerous. Predators like radscorpions are well aware that good prey scurries in, so they make their homes there."

"Well," En decided, "looks like all these predators caught…" she mimicked putting on a pair of sunglasses, "… was a bullet."

To which Meyers responded with a loud, "_YYYEEEAAAAHH_!" and vocalized two electric guitar chords.

Melissa shook her head. "You people and your stupid pre-War TV all the time."

"Heh, yeah," Meyers admitted sheepishly. "TV was quite an inane medium, that's true."

"Still," En said, "High five for the excellent joke collaboration!"

The two rock climbers annex radscorpion tail dodgers had managed to get their feet back on the ground and were now walking towards the trio on the edge of the valley, the male gesticulating wildly at the woman and even though they were too far to be heard, it was clear that he wasn't speaking to her in a kind and soothing manner. The woman seemed to be concentrating on not listening.

Abruptly, the man stopped shouting and simply walked next to his female companion with the yellow hair. He'd apparently decided that their quarrel wasn't meant for the ears of their newfound saviours.

"Hey," he said, not exactly very enthusiastically, as they came within speaking range. He had a rather thin nose for his skin colour, and his eyes looked ever so slightly slanted. Probably had some Asian blood somewhere in there.

En couldn't resist taking on her most adorably snooty stance. "Hello there, scorpion food."

He chuckled without much humour. "Yeah. Thanks for the save. Really."

"That's alright," En said, dropping the haughty young lady act and acting normal again. "I'm sure you both deserve better than to be eaten by a bunch of insects."

"Arachnids," Meyers pointed out.

En rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, no," the woman spoke for the first time. "Like Stanton here says, it's totally cool of you to bail us out." She made a bounce and flashed a broad smile. "You rock, and all." En wasn't the jealous type, but damn, she was nothing short of breathtakingly gorgeous, with fair skin, a straight narrow nose, thin but sensuous lips and long and straight bright yellow hair parted to one side in a stylish haircut, with a fringe that ran sideways across her forehead and almost completely obscured her right eye. En had always wondered about people with haircuts like that. It must be an absolute pest to be almost unable to see through one eye? But it wasn't just her face that was attractive. She had a slender figure with quite noticeable breasts squeezed into her tight… whatever that suit was she was wearing. The other guy too, it was a weird, tight-fitting weathered leather outfit studded with metal reinforcements at the joints and vital areas. En hadn't seen anything like it, but then again, there were all kinds of weird suits out there.

"Well," Meyers said, sounding unabashedly lecherous. "We're certainly sorry for the scorpions now, to be denied such a delicious morsel."

The girl giggled. "Aren't you a charmer." She had a light, slightly nasal voice that sounded almost unpleasant.

"What the Hell were you two drongos doin' down there anyway?" Melissa asked, businesslike as usual. "I've seen a lot of fruitcakes in my life, but they were rarely stupid enough to hike into a gulley full of radscorpions."

"Yeah," the guy grunted, slapping the blonde girl's shoulder. "That was on a dare from this idiot."

"Pft," the girl merely said. "You wanna stay in the bunker, like, for the rest of your life? Bo-ring."

"Bein' dead for the rest of your life's pretty borin' too," Melissa pointed out.

The girl giggled again. "Yeah, I guess."

En wasn't the type to make snap judgments, but she did seem to have paid for her looks with some underfurnishing in the brains department. Then again, people who were that good-looking often gave rise to certain expectations of being stupid, as if people were simply unwilling to believe that someone with great looks could be anything more than semi-intelligent, as if there had to be a balance somehow.

"Anyway, uh," the man (apparently called Stanton) said, "thanks a lot. Any way we can repay you?"

Before En could speak, Melissa asked, "How much you got on ya?"

Stanton ostentatiously tapped his hands over his body, as if he was looking for hidden caches of money in pockets he hadn't noticed yet. "Uh… not much I'm afraid."

"Don't worry, Melissa's only joking," En assured him. "… Right, Melissa?"

Melissa gave her a look that could mean many things.

"Wait, your name's Melissa?" the blonde woman asked, looking keyed up.

"Yeah. Why?" Melissa's tone made it clear she didn't care why.

"Well, that's awesome, because – "

Stanton slapped her shoulder again. "Stop talking, Watkins. You've screwed up enough already with your stupid ideas. And these people aren't interested in your god damn life story."

The girl responded with an irritated, "Geez Stanton, keep your pantyhose on?" With every sentence, she made a little upswing in intonation, as if everything she said was a question. How odd.

"Yeah," Melissa said impatiently, "settle your domestic disputes on your own time, you two."

"We were glad to help anyway," En said gently. "No need to repay us."

Meyers added, "Just looking at your pretty face is payment enough."

En wasn't sure if he was being a charmer or a lecher, but Stanton clearly thought the latter. "Yeah, yeah, enough with the Watkins-adoration already. You make me wanna vomit."

"Aw," the girl (predictably) said. "I think it's cute?"

Melissa seemed to agree with Stanton. "Nope. Nauseating."

"I was definitely impressed by your vocal power," En told her. Those screeches had been so high-pitched and ear-splitting that she must have vocal folds made of steel.

The girl, however, blinked and asked, "Uh, what?"

"Well, yeah," En explained. "You screamed loud enough to shatter glass all the way to San Francisco."

"My ears are still ringin," Melissa added sourly.

"As are mine," Meyers saw fit to join in. "Your voice is… not quite as angelic as your appearance."

The girl reacted in a completely unexpected way, not with embarrassment or irritation, but she actually looked like she was holding back laughter. Stanton, next to her, let out a grunting sigh and rolled his eyes.

"We say something funny?" En asked.

The laughter on the girl's face looked even harder to hold back. Her pale skin was actually turning slightly red from the strain.

"Let's hope she doesn't start laughin' now," Melissa muttered. "If she laughs the way she screams…"

As if that was her cue, the blonde burst into laughter, first throwing her head back and then doubling over, slapping her thighs as the guffawing fit overtook her completely. "Huh… huh… huh…" she tried to speak, but the hitching made it impossible.

"What a weirdo," Melissa remarked.

As she roared with laughter, Watkins brought her arm up. "Huh… he… he…", but the intensity of the laughing fit overtook her again and she doubled over, slapping her thighs, howling in laughter.

En felt her mouth widen into a grin as she watched the girl laugh like crazy. Not only because laughter was contagious, but it was such a joy to see someone just guffaw her face off with such complete abandon in the middle of fucking nowhere, even if En didn't know what it was for. Meyers stood hyucking as well, Melissa had an eyebrow raised (En figured it was the closest she'd ever get to laughing) and En felt her lungs subtly start to contract, her constant headache temporarily forgotten.

Stanton, on the other hand, looked much less amused. "Watkins, shut up and stop laughing like a damn teenager."

Watkins mustered up all her willpower to stop the guffawing for a very brief moment, in which she blurted out, "_It was him screaming_!" after which she promptly doubled over in laughter again. Holy shit, those high pitched girly screams hadn't been her, they'd been surly, serious Stanton. The combined hilarity of Watkins' shrieking laughter and the realization of the screamer's identity made En's grin evolve into laughter too, and while it wasn't as hysterical and unstoppable as the blonde woman's fit, she closed her eyes and just enjoyed laughing and not having any worries in the world for as long as it lasted. It was calm, dignified laughing, but damn it, it felt great!

"Oh… muh… muh… muh…" Watkins tried to articulate. "Oh my g… my god… my fuh… my funny bone!" Her lungs and abs must be hurting like crazy from the laughing.

"Laugh it up, you bunch of idiots," Stanton's voice barked. "God _damn_."

"My friend did save your life," Melissa said in the darkness of En's closed eyes. "I think she's entitled to a good laugh. Even if it is at your expense, you ingrate."

"Yeah, whatever."

En opened her eyes again, and Watkins seemed to be recovering too, wiping tears from her cheeks, still hiccupping. "Oh God… sorry… it's just… once I start…"

"Yeah," Stanton grunted. "Your funny bone. Idiot."

"Well," Meyers said, still grinning. "Thank you for the hilarity, miss Watkins, mister Stanton, but we should be moving on."

"Exactly," Stanton said. "We really should be getting back too."

"Yeah, you should be."

It was a voice, oddly distorted, by what sounded like a speaker, coming from behind them. En had only heard voices of that kind back in New Arroyo, on the rare days that the cops pranced about in full ornate, meaning power armour and big-ass energy weapons.

Stanton's face went slack. "Ah, shit, we're _screwed_ _now_," he whined.

The voice belonged to a man dressed in, true enough, power armour. But it wasn't the kind that Chief Gray and his lieutenants usually wore. Not the anthracite, evil looking monstrosities with the oversized breathing filters, the eerie yellow eyes and the bulky back plate that made them look hunched. This was a silvery colour, and the helmet was different. Not exactly a friendly-looking thing, but at least less demonic than the old Enclave armours – but then again, those had been commissioned especially to make their soldiers look as terrifying as possible. But like the Enclave soldiers, this soldier was holding a big, bulky, hyper-modern looking weapon. She'd seen the armour somewhere before, but where?

"Screwed, indeed," the power armoured man remarked.

Stanton's female buddy seemed to be intent on saving as much face as possible. Cheerfully, she said, "Oh hi, Paladin Hyong! We were just – "

"Shut your trap, Watkins," was all she got as response. "You're done laughing."

"Erp," Watkins said. "Saw that, huh?"

The man in power armour didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he said to En's group, "I should probably introduce myself. Paladin Sun Hyong, Brotherhood of Steel."

That's right, the Brotherhood! They had a small bunker just outside of New Arroyo, but En had only seen one or two of them, and then only once. Well, from what she'd heard of them, they were more or less the good guys, so if you were gonna come across some guy in power armour holding a weapon that could burn anyone to a cinder, better that it was those guys.

"Hi," En said, still somewhat unsure despite her limited knowledge of the Brotherhood. "I'm En, and this is Melissa and sheriff Meyers."

The helmet nodded once. "Greetings. And thanks for saving these two screwballs who thought they could sneak out without me noticing."

That he called them screwballs probably meant this wasn't the first time they'd pulled a stunt like this. From what she knew of them, the Brotherhood was hard on discipline, and didn't consider insubordination to be just a little naughty. "Uh… our pleasure?"

"Whoa, hey, Paladin Hyong," Stanton protested. "It was all Watkins! I didn't want to, but she talked me into – "

Hyong held up a hand to silence him. "Stanton!"

Stanton could do nothing more than look at the ground.

"You're both coming with me, the Head Paladin will decide what to do with you." His speaker let out a sigh. "I swear, Watkins, you're the worst Initiate I've ever been responsible for."

"But I'm so cute and funny?" Watkins complained. She apparently didn't realize the seriousness of the situation. Even En, who didn't know much about the Brotherhood, knew that stuff like this was usually severely punished, either by demotion or expulsion.

"I think sneaking out and almost getting yourself and another Initiate killed is anything but cute and funny," Hyong snapped. "Now shut your trap and come with me."

Watkins pouted, "Awww, more latrine duty."

Hyong didn't respond, instead telling En to, "Follow us, if you like, we'll make sure you get a decent reward, even if it was these two knuckleheads."

En looked at her two companions. Melissa shrugged and Meyers merely said, "Reward's always nice."

"Come on," Hyong said, nudging his helmet to a nearby path. "It's this way. Stanton and Watkins, not a _word_ until we're at base, is that clear?"

Stanton was smart enough to merely nod, but Watkins, of course, couldn't resist asking, "Um, if we say we understand, does that count as saying a word?"

"Watkins," Hyong fulminated, "I will electrocute your stupid ass right here if you don't shut your face!"

"Not her ass," Meyers muttered to En. "That's way too fine to be zapped. Damn, she makes me wish I was twenty years old again."

"You're a dirty old buck," Melissa grunted as they followed Hyong and his two screwballs, "…but you're right. What a bombshell."

En didn't know about the bombshell part, but she certainly was damn gorgeous… if not too bright. Or maybe she just didn't care about authority and rules and discipline and all that stuff. Well, at least she was having fun. Unlike Stanton, who looked like a whipped dog, and who was probably contemplating all kinds of bloody and painful revenge on the blonde ditz that had gotten him into trouble. En already had a pretty good idea on why he'd agreed to go with her on her little adventure, even though he'd been obviously scared to death of getting caught.

"Well," she said to the others, "bombshell and banshee are in trouble, that's for sure."

Meyers chuckled. "I hope they go easy on her. Bet they will. Can't stay mad at a knockout like that."

With a shrug, Melissa said, "Bombshell or no, I'm not interested."

Huh? "Well… of course you aren't," En said, blinking.

"What do you mean, of course?" Melissa asked. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Well… yeah."

Melissa stopped walking and frowned at her. "Because a woman can't possibly be attracted to another woman, right?"

Whoa, wait, what the Hell? Was she trying to say that she was… Holy shit, that'd be really weird, especially with them having slept in the same room together and all that, because you know, it'd be kinda logical with her being so butch and all, but it'd still be awkward, oh man this was uncomfortable. "I, uh, well, I didn't mean…"

"What?"

Nope, that led nowhere, try something else. "Are you uh… a lesbian, maybe? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that," she added quickly. "… but just asking, you know. So we're clear."

"What if I was?"

"Uh… nothing. But, I mean, are you?"

Melissa gave her an icy glare for a moment, then laughed and said, "No. But I sure loved to see you sweat on that one."

En wasn't aware that she let a lungful of built-in air out. "Damn, you evil woman."

Melissa laughed a cruel little laugh and resumed walking. "Bet you were thinking of all the unfortunate implications that would have had concerning our little sleepovers, huh?"

"… Kinda," she had to admit.

"No, but seriously," Melissa said, "I don't really think in labels when it comes to love and sex. But I'll tell you one thing," she stopped again and her brown eyes fixed on En. "I'd never take advantage of you or even have base thoughts about you, and that's a promise."

"Uh… okay?"

"And not because you're not pretty, but because you'd be too young and too good for me."

En had never liked people putting themselves down, and she especially didn't like her friends doing it. "Hey, come on, don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm just sayin', you deserve someone who makes you happy, not some hard, sour, borin' gutter trash."

"Hey! Melissa, stop talking like that."

Melissa smiled and laid a comradely hand on her shoulder. "I'm just sayin', I hope you find someone as great as you are."

En couldn't believe what she was hearing. Melissa that hard-as-nails scrapper who never showed any emotion apart from what little she permitted to be seen, was now offering a glimpse of genuine, honest-to-God affection! "Melissa, come on, you're embarrassing me."

She started walking again. "Long as you know. And if you tell anyone I told you this, you're dead."

"Anyway, you're not a lesbian, so it doesn't matter right?"

"Uh… right," Melissa said. It was an odd answer, and it seemed to En there was more behind it, but the moment had been uncomfortable enough as it was, so she didn't insist.

Meyers, in the meantime, was perfectly content walking behind the Brotherhood people and enjoying the swaying of Blonde Bombshell's hips. A child's hand is quickly filled.

The trip led them through a pass between the mountains, and to a large valley, surrounded by a chainlink fence that had been flattened in several places.

"Look at that," Melissa said. "Bunker valley."

The localized sandstorms Melissa had been talking about actually existed, though they weren't the terrifying sandy whirlwinds that they had in some deserts, the ones that flayed the flesh off people's bones and buried cities overnight. These were just hard winds that made sand slide over the ground, caressing their boots as they walked.

A low hill hid the entrance of a bunker, an armoured steel door cut into the side of the hill, with all kinds of graffiti scrawled and sprayed around it. Hyong punched in a code on the keypad next to the door (it miraculously hadn't been vandalized yet), and with a loud clanking sound, the door slid open.

"Ooh," Melissa said, sounding enthusiastic for a change. "I've always wondered what was inside those bunkers."

"Two of them are abandoned ruins," Hyong informed her. "But this one was serviceable, so we converted it into our base of operations."

Quietly, Melissa said to En, "Heh, bet those mongrels at the NCR would pay a lot of money for this."

"Why?" En asked. What would the NCR have to gain from knowing the Brotherhood's location? They weren't exactly factions with diametrically opposed goals, were they? She remembered them being more or less on friendly terms back in California.

"I'll tell you later. Just don't mention the NCR and if they ask, say you hate 'em. Won't be too hard for me, but you might wanna do the same."

"Uh… okay."

Melissa hadn't steered her wrong so far, so it was probably a good idea to listen to her.

The bunker's inside was rather anticlimactic, just a dirty, empty concrete room. Was this the Brotherhood's base? That would be a serious bummer.

"Wait here," Hyong said curtly, then he said to no one in particular, "Paladin Hyong requesting entry, switching to secure comlink channel beta."

An uncomfortable silence fell, with Watkins and Stanton standing there mute, looking like two scolded school children (one of them with poor concentration, looking around at the bare walls), and Hyong probably giving a password or some such through his comlink, using a silent channel so they didn't hear anything.

After a few seconds, there was a _bang_ as a slab of concrete detached from the rest of the wall, and slid to the side, apparently mounted on hinges. A dark polished steel stairwell led down, illuminated by bright yellow electrical lights. Now this was more like what she'd heard of the Brotherhood: high tech stuff, no old flickery lights hooked up to car batteries, but actual constant lighting powered by generators. Part of En wanted to stop and take the lights apart, but she restrained herself.

"You're welcomed here as guests," Hyong intoned from behind them, "because you saved the lives of two of our brothers. But if you prove unworthy of our welcome in any way, you will be dealt with. Is this clear?"

"Uh… yeah," En said. Wow, that wasn't beating around the bush.

"Same goes for disclosing the location of this base. Failure to keep this information to yourself constitutes high treason and is punishable by death."

"… Okay." En had no idea how these guys thought they could keep tabs on what they said once they walked out of here, but alright, if they thought threats would do the trick, let them.

They came to the bottom of the stairs and found themselves in front of a thick-looking door made out of dark, almost black metal, polished and cleaned to an immaculate shine. En felt like she'd stepped into a pre-War movie.

A pneumatic hiss sounded from the door and it slid upward, revealing an antechamber quite like the one they were in, only bigger, and with a desk, which was also neurotically clean. Behind that desk sat a man in power armour, only his helmet was off. En had seen the cops of her village wearing power armour, but she was still relieved to see it confirmed that these people were actual humans. You never know what goes on within those creepy tin suits.

"Stanton and Watkins," the man behind the desk said with a sigh. "They never learn."

"Umm," Watkins immediately began to protest, "Senior Paladin Ramos, we were – "

"I don't care," the man behind the desk interrupted, shooing her to silence. "Now shut up while I verify the identities of our guests."

There was a computer on his desk, more modern than En had ever seen, and the man Watkins had called Paladin Ramos was typing on a keyboard, looking intently at the screen. He looked Hispanic, which fitted his name of course, with a carefully trimmed beard and wavy hair combed back.

"Place your finger here?" He pointed to a small device screwed into the desk, a metal square with a black plastic-looking surface, connected to the bigger terminal with a few wires. Probably a fingerprint scanner. Wondering how those damn things worked and if these people maybe had a broken one lying around she could take a look at, En did as she was told. _Beep_.

"M-hm, thank you." He looked up at Melissa. "Next?"

"I don't think that's necessary," Melissa said flatly.

Ramos replied with a not unfriendly, but equally flat, "But I do."

Quietly, En said to Melissa, "Go on, if it makes them feel better."

With a grunting sigh and an ostentatious roll of her eyes, Melissa placed her index finger on the black plastic. _Beep_.

Meyers didn't even have to be asked, spontaneously offering his thumb to the black identity stealer.

"Let's see," Ramos muttered. "Let's hope these come up clean so I won't have to shoot you and then kick Paladin Hyong's ass for bringing outsiders in without a decent identity check."

"Hey," Hyong protested, "they saved – "

"They saved two people who couldn't tie their own shoes, Hyong. As noble as it was of them, they might have done us a better service if they'd let them become radscorpion lunch." Hyong had apparently informed Ramos of what had happened through the secure channel. En scanned the office in the meantime, marvelling at the modern flat screen monitors showing the bunker entrance, the grey concrete inside, and several vistas of the outside, and the comlink installations and holo projectors, that she didn't even know the use for. This technology was remarkable. She felt like a child in a candy store, only she wouldn't be allowed to buy anything.

"Aha, hit number one," Ramos said himself, then looked up at Meyers. "Clifton Frederick Meyers, former sheriff…" he frowned. "Convicted to two years in prison by the NCR due to malpractice?"

Meyers cleared his throat. "A slight disagreement on how to end a string of murders in my town."

"Bet they wanted you to discuss it in a committee, huh?" Ramos said, sounding not unsympathetic.

"Exactly. But I took action, and dealt with it."

"M-hm. Well, NCR convictions don't amount to anything in this place, so seems like you're clean. Hit number two." His eyes fixed on Melissa. "Melissa Lewis, former Great Khan."

Melissa seemed slightly off-balance. "How do you know I'm a _former_ Khan?"

Ramos chuckled thinly. "We have eyes and ears everywhere. Some human, some mechanical."

Did that mean they bugged places? En would _love_ to know how they did that, but she supposed they wouldn't tell her, so she didn't ask.

"And lastly… ah, there we go. Enlil Tessara, Mojave Express courier? Doesn't look like a courier job from where I'm standing."

"I'm uh… looking for some answers," En replied. "Personal reasons."

"Wait, wait," Melissa butted in, excited. "_What_ was that name? Can you read it to me again?"

En sighed and rolled her eyes. There we go again. Melissa's eyes were alight with the anticipation of future ridiculing.

"Uhhh… Enlil Tessara. Strange name," Ramos remarked.

"_Enlil_?" Melissa repeated incredulously, grinning like an idiot. "What the Hell kind of name is _that_?"

Urgh. Every time her full name got out, people acted all childish and retarded. She'd curse her parents for giving her such a stupid-ass name if she didn't love them so much. That was the rotten thing with historians – just because they had an adoration for a certain historical figure, doesn't mean your _kid should be named after it._ Usually, just shortening it and going 'No, no' when people asked if it was short for something did the trick, but every once in a while, some smartass had to figure out her actual name and tell it to everyone else. Even her own damn parents had admitted they preferred just En, but of course, fat lot of good that did her in situations like these. "Yes, Melissa," she said with a grunting sigh, "En's short for Enlil. My parents are history lovers and they figured there was nothing uncool about naming your child after some ancient god, and a male one at that. They've always called me En, as did everyone else, and I'd appreciate it if you did the same."

Melissa snickered. "Enlil." Gah, she'd never outlive that one.

Surprisingly though, Meyers said, "Well, missy, I gotta say, _that_ is a name with character!"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I mean it," he said enthusiastically. "I thought En was a bit short, a bit undefining. No mystique in it. But Enlil's full of mystery and history." He painted the word in the air with his hands. "Enlil. Sounds… ancient. Muslem, yes?"

"No. Sumerian. Glad you like it at least."

He nodded sagely. "I very much do."

"Yes, well, back to the realm of sanity," the Paladin behind the desk said sourly." Looks like you're all clean." He looked at Melissa. "Well, _relatively_ clean."

Melissa shrugged. "I bathe. Occasionally."

Unperturbed, Ramos continued, "… so I'll send you back on your way with thanks and a reward. Paladin Hyong?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I think these people have earned the P90 we recovered from the old National Guard depot, yes?"

"… If you say so, sir."

He resumed typing. "That should do fine as a reward for your troubles." It was clearly not to be argued with. "Now, Watkins and Stanton?"

Stanton's "Yes, sir!" was immediate and nervous, while Watkins trailed behind with her own, half-assed version.

"Stanton, report to Scribe Schuler for two weeks of full time cleaning, waste disposal and administrative assistance. Your exam to knight has been postponed by a year."

Stanton made a valiant but not-quite-successful effort to hide his disappointment at his severe punishment. "Yes, sir."

"Out."

Without another word, Stanton followed Hyong through the metal door, inside the bunker, to places En could only dream of seeing.

"Watkins."

"Yeah?"

"I've just had a written reply from Elder McNamara and Head Paladin Hardin." He paused for effect, then leaned forward on his elbows. "… and we're all getting pretty fed up with your lack of discipline and motivation."

Watkins grinned knowingly (or in her case, probably more thinking-she-knewingly) at Ramos. "This is because of that cellophane-wrap-over-the-toilet-bowl prank three nights ago, isn't it?"

"No, Watkins!" Ramos snapped, a little too quickly. Then he corrected himself. "Well, uh, that certainly didn't help matters." He cleared his throat. "But anyway, both Elder McNamara and Head Paladin Hardin are formal. As am I."

From the look of her, En thought she was finally seeing the thunderclouds massing in the distance. Her bubbly, cheerful expression seemed to be ever so slightly weakened by insecurity, her one visible eye looking barely perceptibly shaken, the other hidden behind her stylish yellow fringe. En sure didn't want to be her right now.

"Head Paladin Hardin sees very little potential in your attitude from a military perspective, Elder McNamara is tired of signing disciplinary forms with your name on them, and I think you're a risk to this installation's security." And on what looked to be a very personal note, he added, "and its peace of mind."

Watkins' lower lip began to tremble. "So…?"

Looking away from her, Ramos said, "This decision was made by three Brotherhood base mandataries of senior rank or higher, with all three in charge of key aspects of Brotherhood functioning, making it valid and non-contestable." He spoke the words as if they were an official and required preface to a serious punishment. Which they probably were.

"Hey, wait, come on," Watkins began to protest. "I was just being – "

"Brotherhood base mandataries in charge of Military, in the person of Head Paladin Hardin, in charge of Operations, in the person of Elder McNamara, and of base security, in the person of myself, Senior Paladin Ramos, have deemed it necessary for you to be expelled from this facility until you have proven yourself worthy to return."

The girl's jaw fell. "Wait, but… I'm being _kicked out_?"

Despite the formality and harshness of Ramos' condemnation, he was quick to assure her, "Not permanently. Not yet. Until you prove you're worthy to serve under the Brotherhood flag."

"You can't do this," she protested, "Not if you have a vote against! And Senior Scribe Taggart will – "

"The vote was called with all Senior and above Brotherhood members present! Three voted for your expulsion!" Ramos shouted. "Senior Scribe Taggart _abstained_."

For some reason, that looked like a thunderbolt from a clear sky for Watkins. "Taggart ab… abstained? But he… I'm his best student. Why would he…"

Ramos sighed and looked at the top of his desk. "Watkins... You should know by now that Senior Scribe Taggart's motivation to select his students isn't always… well, rational."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

Oh come on, _Watkins_! Even En knew what Ramos was talking about and she hadn't even met this Taggart fellow. Then again, maybe it was better for her if this girl didn't understand. The damage had been done, no need to rub her face in it, even as revenge for urine-spattered pyjama pants.

Ramos shifted uncomfortably, still looking at his desk. "You weren't… well…" But then he sighed and closed the subject with, "Look, he abstained, the decision is final. You will leave this installation and return when you are deemed worthy."

"Um, what about my parents, _maybe_?"

"Your parents are back West, and even if they were here, they wouldn't be able to do a thing about it," Ramos explained. "They're not senior-ranked."

"But I don't have anywhere to go!"

"I know. That's part of the journey, Watkins. Part of becoming an adult."

With admirable resilience, Watkins bounced back to her careless self and said, "Whatever. This is stupid." At the same time, the metal door to the bunker interior opened and a man in power armour (presumably Paladin Hyong) came out holding a submachine gun. It looked tiny in his massive gauntlets.

"Paladin Hyong, escort our guests and miss Watkins outside." En didn't think deliberately adding the 'miss' was necessary.

"Yes, sir." His helmet briefly settled on Watkins as he handed En the submachine gun. "Sorry, Watkins. They asked me and… I answered honestly."

Watkins put her hands in her sides. "You were in on it too, huh? Pft, bunch of can't-take-a-joke vinegar pissers."

"Go on, Watkins," Ramos ordered, but then, more gently, "Be safe out there, develop some maturity and come back, alright? This doesn't have to be permanent."

"What, and come back to people who hate me?"

"No one hates you, Watkins," Ramos soothed. "But you need to leave, find yourself and _change_."

Watkins bounced, and with a disdainful smile said, "Um, whatever? I don't even _want_ to be part of your silly little knights of the round table group anyway?" Her question-like intonation was back. Good sign, En supposed.

"You'll change your mind," Hyong said. "You're angry right now, and we understand, but you'll come around."

She snorted. "Um, yeah, don't bet on it?"

Without a word, Ramos hit the open-button of the door to the exit.

"This way," Hyong said, pointing to the door.

En and her friends followed, with En saying a brief, "Um, thanks for the uh…" she held up the P90.

"That's alright," Ramos said with a nod. "You've saved the life of two of our brothers and we thank you for it. That they were committing insubordination wasn't your fault."

She felt kinda bad for Watkins, and supposed there was no harm in trying. "Are you sure Watkins here has to be kicked out?"

Ramos nodded patiently. "Yes. It's not a decision we wish to discuss with outsiders, miss."

Hyong nudged his helmet toward the door. "Come on, time to leave. You too, Watkins."

Watkins only stomped her foot and complained, "Man!"

They were led back to the surface by Paladin Hyong, who handed En a small box of 5.7x28 millimetre ammunition to go with the P90. "It's not a lot, and the ammo's not all that common, but I'm sure there's places that can restock you."

"Okay, thanks."

The helmet nodded. "Be safe, and keep your mouths shut about this base."

"We will."

"Watkins, use your time outside to reflect and grow. When that's done, come on back and I'm sure we'll welcome you back. Even Hardin won't be able to stay surly if bring us some good new tech to tempt them with."

All Watkins said to that was, "We'll see."

"Yeah." And with that, Hyong let the bunker door slide closed, leaving En and her friends alone with Watkins in the hot afternoon sun.

Visibly uncomfortable, Watkins uttered an insecure, loud "Ummmm?"

En supposed this was when the question came, but Meyers beat Watkins to it. "She can come with us, right?" Figured _he'd_ be all for the idea.

"Uh… I don't know," En said. On the one hand, the girl would probably be good company, and expelled or no, ditzy or no, Brotherhood people were very good with tech and computers, but on the other, someone who got kicked out of her own organization for being unreliable usually wasn't very, well, reliable. Then again, this girl was all on her own, with nowhere to go, and childishly as she might take it, that must be awful for anyone, especially Brotherhood folk who spent so much time in seclusion. "Do you need some company?"

She smiled and looked at the ground. "I'm not gonna be all like, proud and independent and haughty and say I don't need any help. I totally like sneaking out and all, but to be totally honest, I don't think I'd survive long on my own? So yeah, if you're um, well, if I could tag along, that'd be totally not uncool of you guys?"

"Of course you can stay with us," Meyers offered magnanimously. "I mean, we're not going to leave this lovely lady stranded in the desert, are we?"

With a bounce, Watkins said, "Listen to the voice of experience?"

En supposed there was no harm in it, and if the girl became tired of them, she'd probably strike out on her own anyway, and if they became tired of her, well, same thing. "Yeah, fine, I guess."

"Cool! So whatcha doing in the desert?"

"I'll explain on the way."

Melissa harrumphed. She'd been silent for a while now, and En hadn't even noticed. "I guess no one's interested in my opinion."

Ah, shit, she'd been so quiet En had forgotten she was there. But hey, it wasn't her fault. Melissa was usually pretty damn audible, and En wasn't used to her being quiet. "Sorry, Melissa, did you um… well, do you see a problem?"

Melissa shrugged. "Nope. But it would've been nice if you asked me too before confirmin' this randy old buck's invite."

"You're right, Melissa. Sorry. But you're okay with this, right?"

She shrugged again. "Given our history, it's not like I have any right to object."

Geez, make up your mind! "So you're okay with it then."

"Mm."

"Right. Uh, welcome aboard then?"

She smiled and made another cheerful bounce. "Thanks!"

"I'm En, this is Melissa and Meyers." She realized she should start using his first name. "… Clifton."

"Just Cliff's fine, my dear," Meyers said, taking off his stetson and making a flourishing bow.

"Bloody 'ell," Melissa said with a roll of her eyes. "Wipe the drool from your chin, old man."

Watkins was, of course, charmed. Or at least, she looked like she was. "Aw, that's alright, I like old-fashioned men?"

"Old-fashioned, yeah," En joked, "but old, full stop?"

With a giggle, Watkins said, "Well, I'm Melissa Watkins, former… I guess… Initiate of the Brotherhood of Steel." She took extra care to make the name of her organization sound extra stupid. With a quick look at the other Melissa, she added, "But um, no one uses my full first name anyway, most people just say Leza?"

"Good," Melissa grunted. "Avoid the confusion."

"M-hm," En joked. "You can see how quickly people would get you two mixed up."

Melissa swatted at the back of En's head, deliberately missing it by a few centimetres. "Watch it, big mouth."

"Yeah, I'm gonna not open my mouth on that one," Watkins decided. "Because your friend looks like she can kick my ass and not break a sweat?"

"You'd be right about that," En said. "As some unfortunate gangbangers found out a day or two ago."

"Ooh!" Watkins cheered. "Tell, tell!"

With a smile, En said, "I'll talk your ear off while we head to that weird rocket place."

"As if we'll ever find that with your navigational skills," Melissa remarked.

Looking at her Pip-Boy, En assured them, "No, no, I've got it now, it's due North. I think."

"Well, you haven't steered us wrong so far," Meyers said sarcastically.

"No, no, come on. I'm sure I've got it now."

"Umm." Watkins butted in. "Do you mean the place where those rockets took off from?"

En looked up from her Pip-Boy. "Yeah, that's the place. Why?"

Grinning proudly, she said, "That's the old REPCONN Headquarters. Taggart wanted to send me there once I got my Scribe rank. That a Pip-boy with a map function?"

"M-hm."

She held out her hand. "Can I?"

"Uh… sure." She maid her wrist into the blonde girl's hand, and waited as Watkins clumsily navigated through the map menu. After a moment or two, she said, "There, on your map."

"En," Melissa announced, "You're fired. Blonde bombshell does the navigation now."


	23. Lurking In The Darkness

**.**

**TWENTY-THREE**

**Somewhere in the Mojave desert**

**July 3rd**

**16:01**

"So yeah, that's why we're trying to find him."

Watkins looked genuinely shocked. "He just… shot you? Just like that?"

"M-hm."

"That sucks. What a total assface?"

En could help but smile at the woman's clumsy but sincere indignation. They'd walked for an hour now, after swinging past scorpion gulch to pick up Watkins' lost laser pistol, and then in the direction indicated by En's Pip-boy. En had taken the time to get to know Watkins a little better, and to explain what exactly she was doing, she and her group that just kept growing every day. "You know, when we get to that REPCONN place, maybe we can find some nice tech you can take back to the Brotherhood?"

Watkins looked off into the distance. "If I even wanna go back there?"

"If you want to go back there, yeah."

"Anyway, I'm not really thinking about that stuff now. I need to go back whenever I think I'm ready. Whenever _that_ is?" She kicked a pebble. "But _man_, that Taggart. What a backstabber?"

"That's that way it goes, babe," Melissa commented. "That's what men to with women."

"Hadn't pegged you for the misandronic type, Melissa," En said. Pfff, good thing Watkins abbreviated her own first name. What a mess it'd be otherwise.

"I'm not. I'm just sad to see those things happen. They say women often hide their true intentions, and I suppose that's true. But so do men."

"No gender", Meyers remarked, "has the monopoly on lying and double-dealing, Melissa. It's just that people experience it most often from the gender other than theirs, and so they think it's only done by those people."

"M-hm. That's what I'm sayin'."

Watkins shrugged. "I dunno. Guys are at least predictable about their intentions. Usually."

"I know I am," Meyers said, leering.

"See? Most guys at least say it straight out?"

"Can't say I can vouch for that," En said. Then again, guys usually _were_ pretty straightforward when she was with Allison, but then that frankness was never directed at her. Stupid sexy Allison. En wondered how she was doing and felt a bit of melancholy in her chest, missing her best friend.

"Well, neither can I," Melissa said, pulling En back to the present. "Then again, most guys probably wouldn't dare be forward with me."

"Which is kinda a shame," Watkins remarked, "because I mean, you look all tough, and like, unapproachable, but you're actually, you know, friendlier than you appear?"

Melissa snorted. "I owe En somethin' big, and so her friends are my friends. But trust me, this isn't the way I am to most people."

"Anyway," Watkins said. "I'm used to guys making it pretty clear that they're only after one thing. It's pretty handy if you play your cards right?"

"I'm sure," En remarked, more sourly than she intended. And even though she tried not to notice it, a feeling of envy wriggled itself into her thoughts. First Allison, and now this girl. A new one to hog all the attention. Sure, she wasn't really interested in being sexy for its own sake, but it would be nice sometimes to have someone feel attracted to her, instead of just considering her 'cute' or 'adorable'. She pushed the thought away, because that way of thinking only led to frustration and more envy, and just like Allison, this woman probably didn't deserve her jealousy either. Still, unlike Sunny, who was certainly good-looking, but more subtly so, this girl had the same way Allison had: to literally suck all attention toward her, leaving nothing for the others. Allison didn't do it on purpose, and neither did Watkins, she supposed, but it still sucked. She hoped Ringo's attention would still be focused on the right person: the beautiful, caring, protective woman, who'd die before letting anything happen to En. The one with the maimed legs and the short height and the curves that weren't the complete, full, entire one hundred percent perfect.

The rest of the walk was spent clueing Watkins in on the two members left in Novac, and what had happened to one of them. And while she was a bit ditzy, Watkins certainly seemed to care about Sunny's accident, and she definitely looked like she hated seeing bad things happen to good people, and that was always a plus. Most people would be pretty apathetic if they heard stories like that about people they didn't know, which was of course understandable, but Watkins seemed to genuinely care. Good.

Behind her, she heard Meyers say to Melissa, "Don't think less of me for this, but I can think of so many naughty things I'd like to do with this girl."

Melissa responded with a flat, "Fine by me, but if I ever hear you say something like that about En, I'll break your neck."

It warmed her heart to her Melissa say that, and it brought a smile to her face, though it was a good thing Sunny wasn't in earshot.

"No, no, she's a fine-looking young lady, but not in that way."

Not that she craved Meyers' carnal attention (shudder!), but there it was again. 'You're cute, En, but you don't want to fuck cute, you know?'. She didn't want to _be_ fucked either, but it _would_ be kinda nice to be wanted once in a while. Though not by an old guy. Ew.

Watkins hadn't heard the exchange, busily tampering with the laser pistol's settings. It looked like an old model, but old stuff often performed best, in En's experience. She'd passed the P90 off to Melissa for the time being, Meyers holding on to Melissa's old Walther MP. He didn't trust all that 'newfangled plastic stuff'.

"Mechanical problem?" En asked, seeing Watkins muck around with the dials.

"Yeah. Damn stupid old thing got its beam focus settings dial knocked crooked when it fell, and I want to change it back to maximum focus? But it… won't… budge!"

She held out her hand. "Gimme."

"You know your way around a laser pistol?"

She grinned, confident as she always was when talking about her repairing skills. "I know my way around everything mechanical."

Watkins handed her the laser pistol. "Then I could've used your help when my vibe borked out."

"Ew, not even if you washed it with peroxide first." She took a look at the laser pistol and saw the problem. "Reason you can't turn the dial is because it's already at max. Only thing that moved is the dial's plastic covering. You know, the indicator. So the arrow's in the wrong place, but the setting itself is correct. It should be on max focus already."

Watkins took the laser pistol back and turned it over in her hands. "I knew that."

"Well, blast away."

She made a sour face. "I'm kinda hoping I won't have to. Apparently you all kill each other on the surface. Not exactly my idea of great time?"

"Tell me about it." She subconsciously touched the scar on the side of her head.

"Yeah, I guess you know better than anyone. Anyway, killing stuff, no thanks. I'm a lover, not a fighter?"

En didn't doubt that for a second. Girls like her, well, they got around. Gah! Bad En! Bad thoughts! She might have all the purity of the holy Mary for all En knew. But she was pretty sure that wasn't the case.

"We there yet?" Melissa complained from behind them.

En glanced at her Pip-Boy. "Coming up on it. Should be over this hill."

"What treasures await us there?" Meyers mused.

"Big-ass rats and rabid ghouls probably," Melissa answered him.

"I should've been sent there if I'd chosen to be a Scribe," Watkins said. "Looks like that's not gonna happen." She shrugged. "For the best, I guess."

"It's not too late," En told her. "Checking the place out might score you a few points with the Brotherhood again?

"Yeah, but I don't wanna anymore, anyway? Bunch of stuffy old rule-obsessed anal doodyheads!" She kicked a pebble away to reinforce her point. En didn't push the matter, because not only was it none of her damn business, but the girl was angry right now, and unable to evaluate the situation rationally. You'd be angry for less, getting booted from your outfit, even if it was for a legitimate reason. En didn't know just how bad the pranks, escapades and antics had been, so she couldn't judge the legitimacy of the expulsion, but warranted or not, it must not have been fun, even if she did her best to be light-hearted about it. And if anything, she must have brightened the moods in the Brotherhood bunker somewhat. From what En knew of them, the Brotherhood were a bunch of over-serious frowners. Nothing wrong with livening things up a little.

"See that satellite dish?" Watkins pointed out. "Old REPCONN facility. We noticed the rockets too, were supposed to, you know, send a recon team over there? Didn't get around to it, what with the sneaking out and stuff."

Indeed, visible over the hill was a satellite dish, but it looked to be nestled very high atop the mountain. Surely they didn't have to climb all the way up there?

Watkins answered her question before she could ask it. "Dish is only part of the facility though. Most of it is below, set against the rock face?"

And indeed, as they stood on top of the hill, they could see the facility's main building in the valley below, a large brick and granite complex that could be reached by climbing the two parallel stairs in the valley. On the courtyard, where the stairs started from, was a weathered steel statue of a weird, almost cartoonish-looking rocket, looking very much like the ones that had taken flight and passed overhead. It was the right place, pretty certainly. But wait. En peered down into the courtyard, then took her XM-21, taking a better look through her scope. They were bodies alright, clad in some weird kind of robes. Some of the corpses looked rather intact, others were badly damaged. What had happened down there?

"Stay alert," En told the others. "Dead bodies down there."

"This is the Wastes," Melissa remarked laconically. "Dead bodies everywhere."

Meyers calmly clacked the bolt of Melissa's MP, and Watkins gripped her laser pistol tighter. "Dead bodies? Ew."

"Whoever killed them is probably long gone," Melissa said from behind En. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't still be careful."

En was all for being careful.

"I'll go down first," Melissa continued. "Jillaroo, you keep watch and shoot anything that moves, yeah?"

"Okay," En said. "But shouldn't you…"

"I'll be fine." And with that, Melissa sauntered down the rock face, quickly leaping down to the valley floor fifteen metres below them.

"Like a muscled mountain goat," Meyers commented.

En peered through her scope and scanned the area for any signs of hostility, but after a few minutes, nothing appeared, and Melissa had already reached the first dead body. In her scope, she saw Melissa giving her a thumbs-up. "Alright, I think we can go down."

Less confidently than Melissa, the three began their climb down the rock face. It wouldn't be that long of a fall if they slipped, but even short drops could be painful or even deadly, especially if you hit a few jutting rocks on the way down. Those things didn't have a habit of caressing the body with a gentle silky fingertip when you smacked into them. En was down first, with only a few unstable moments, and Watkins came after, Meyers taking it easy with his old and starved frame. Just before Watkins was down, she slipped, yelped and struck her backside on a protruding piece of rock, then landed on the valley floor, half on her feet and half on her behind. For a moment, En's heart jumped, because a fall on the backside, while comical, could actually lead to some serious injury.

"Owww," she wailed. "My _ass_!" furiously rubbing the painful area. "Dammit!"

"Want me to… give you… a rub down?" Meyers asked, panting from the exertion.

"No, I'm good," Watkins said. "But damn, that was painful?"

"Yeah," Melissa said without much emotion. "That's gonna leave a nice bruise."

"Gah," Watkins grunted. "That'll look nice next time I let a guy into my pants!"

Yep, it was as En had thought. She got around. Well, her choice, En supposed. You share your bed with whomever you want to.

"I won't judge, my dear?" Meyers offered.

Watkins gave him a haughty look. "But I will."

"So uh," En asked, changing the subject, "what about the bodies?"

"Met a pretty violent end," Melissa explained. "This one got perforated with small arms fire, the two over there got blown to shreds by a rocket launcher, or, well, some other explosive, and the one over there got… I don't know, hacked in two, it looks like."

"You mean blown in two?" Meyers asked with a frown.

"No. Then I would've said 'blown in two', yeah? There was no burn damage or whatever, so I'm guessin' it was a sharp, heavy object that just…" she mimicked swinging a baseball bat, "… chopped him in half."

"Sounds… painful," Watkins remarked with a scrunched-up face.

"M-hm. Funny thing is," Melissa said, setting her boot against the head of the closest body. "They're all ghouls." She turned the head over with her boot to illustrate her point. Indeed, the skin stretched over the head looked like it had been very badly burned, with a few clumps of hair left here and there, but mostly bald, a mess of red and blackened scar tissue, with that typical warped and bumpy texture burned skin had. It was a ghoul alright. What the Hell were ghouls doing, walking around dressed in robes and getting killed?

"No point standin' here," Melissa told them. "Either we take a look inside, or we say what-the-Hell and head back to Novac."

"We came here to take a look," Meyers said. "Be stupid not to go in now, right?"

En supposed that was true. "M-hm."

"Right," Melissa said. "Come on, Enlil."

"Melis_sa_!"

An evil chuckle was her only response as Melissa turned toward the stairs and broke into a jog. Watkins, Meyers and En trudged after her, considerably less energetic.

"Stop."

There it was again. It'd been a while since she'd had one, but that hadn't fooled her into thinking they might have stopped. The pain intensified again, her head feeling like it was going to pound itself apart.

"Whoa, hey", she heard Watkins say in the distance. "You alright?"

Meyers called out, "Melissa?"

Melissa's footsteps came closer, and her voice came through, "Another one?"

Meyers, "Another what?"

"She's okay, just let her ride it out."

Watkins again, "But she's going gray. Shouldn't we do something?"

"Nothin' we can do."

Then the voices were drowned out by the shrieking in her ears, her vision slowly glaring to pure white, and then fading again. Her stomach was surprisingly compliant this time, not forcing up any awful, sour liquid. But the pounding in her head was no less than last time, banging so hard she lost her balance and felt Melissa's strong hands catching her and holding her up. As the shrieking lessened, Melissa's voice became audible again, telling her to hold on, that she was right there with her. The strength in her legs gave out again, but Melissa had her in a strong grip and she didn't fall. And gradually, the pounding returned to a more tolerable pulsing, the shrieking ears slowly falling silent. She closed her eyes and recovered for a minute, her cheek on Melissa's tattooed forearm, and then managed to stand on her feet again. "Thanks… Melissa."

"Don't thank me," Melissa said, looking away. "Remember why you get these attacks in the first place."

"I haven't forgotten," En slurred, still dizzy. "But I'm well on the way to forgiving."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness." And with that Melissa let go of En's shoulders and stomped to the REPCONN building.

"What's… that about?" Watkins asked. Meyers knew already what Melissa's responsibility had been regarding En's seizures, but he kept silent, letting En decide whether or not to tell her.

"She… feels like she should have been able to stop it from happening," En finally said. It wasn't a lie, not really, and Melissa had been judged enough by people who weren't in a place to judge.

Surprisingly, Watkins took the hint and just said, "Okay, I won't pry."

"Come, ladies. Let us follow our intrepid amazon."

At the top of the stairs lay the REPCONN building, a dilapidated structure set into the rock wall. They were on a walkway surrounding the building, and in front of them were a set of double doors, with faded paint on the dirty door glasses: REPCONN HQ, WELCOME!

Melissa pushed the panic bar and the doors opened, letting them in.

It was gloomy inside, what little light there was coming in through the dirt-caked windows and doors, and it didn't allow for much sight.

"Dammit," En hissed. "I forgot the night vision monocle."

"I got a flashlight in my belt," Watkins announced, her nasal voice sounding startlingly loud in the silence. There was a click and a brave little white beam pierced the darkness, Watkins holding her small maglite triumphantly. "Better than nothing?"

Melissa clapped her so hard on the shoulder she almost lost her balance, "Well done, blondie."

"Uh… you can hold it," Watkins offered. "I… don't think I'm the best person to, you know, take point?"

With a sneer, Melissa took the maglite from Watkins and led the way. Another dead body lay in the lobby they were in. It was dirty and wasted, but it looked like one day this had been a luxurious welcome centre. A designer wooden reception desk stood on the right side of the lobby, while couches that were once upholstered with leather still remained in the waiting area. Behind the reception desk lay a cracked glass picture frame of a young man holding a baby. So many people.

"This one seems to have been hacked open too," Melissa remarked, turning the body over with her boot. A sharp object had slashed across his abdomen and torso, splitting his ribcage and letting the insides spill out. The organs had dried and become wrinkled black pouches of tissue. Between the sofas lay another robed ghoul who had been split from head to crotch. Whoever had done this must be extremely powerful. "Jagged edges, more tearin' than cuttin'," Melissa analyzed. "Looks like a primitive weapon, so it must have needed enormous force."

"This is like… a place from some kind of horror movie," Watkins said, her voice full of revulsion.

"It's all too real, I'm afraid, miss Watkins," Meyers told her, for once not making leering remarks. "The things people do to each other are worse in reality than anything you can imagine."

Watkins merely said, "What a shit world you live in."

"You too now," Melissa pointed out with a grin, shining the maglite in her face.

"Yeah," Watkins said quietly, looking sad in the pale flashlight beam. "I know?"

"But hey," En said to her, putting her arm over her shoulder even though the blonde was considerably taller, "You can stay with us as long as you like. We'll be cheerful enough for the rest of the world, how's that?"

That put a weak smile on Watkins' face. "Thanks. You rock and all."

En really felt sorry for her, thrown into this world on her own, probably because she'd been sneaking out trying to get to know a little more of that same world. Sure, it had probably been a need to be rebellious and break the rules for the most part, but a lot of it must have been curiosity as well. It would be for En, if she'd been the one spending most of her life sheltered.

"Oi, jillaroo, when you're done molly-coddlin' the new kid, what do you say we move on?"

The ground floor of the REPCONN HQ didn't provide any excitement, consisting mostly of offices divided into cubicles, with busted or looted computers and rickety, rotted desks. There was a coca-cola machine, but it had been broken open already, the coke bottles, caps and old world money stolen a long time ago.

"Got stairs to the basement level here," Meyers called out from the other side of the building. He'd offered to split up and explore with Watkins (predictably), while Melissa stayed with En to search the east side of the building.

"Mm, might be interestin'," Melissa said, so they joined the others in what looked like a large manufacturing plant, with the machines and conveyors broken and rusted, the rubber parts eaten or rotted through. A broad staircase led down, however, into the bowels of the facility and apparently to the launch pad, as was indicated above it, but the staircase ended in a solid metal door without a handle or a lever, and only a keypad next to it.

ENTER PASS CODE

Yay, it was one of those rotten things that needed a four-digit code to unlock. En didn't know jack about programming or hacking, so the only thing she could do was take the keypad apart and hopefully short something out so that the door opened. But this wasn't like the safe she'd broken into with Sunny and Ringo outside of Goodsprings. That had been a cheap, low-grade electronic lock, circumvented simply by switching two wires. Keypads like these, that you found in important labs, were much more difficult to sabotage, and were often protected against physical tampering. "I'm… not sure I can circumvent this thing," En said, feeling horrible that she had to admit it.

"Shoot it out?" Meyers suggested.

"Nu-uh. They're protected against that sort of thing. Tamper with them or destroy them, and the door goes into permanent lockdown."

"I totally got this." With a confident smirk, Watkins produced a small computer from her leg pack, plugging it into the side of the keypad. "Let's see…"

En, Melissa and Meyers exchanged a glance, wondering what she was doing. Surely this lovely but airheaded girl wouldn't be able to use programming language?

"Ha," Watkins cheered. "It's written in SHDN. Shouldn't be too hard?"

The others stood looking as Watkins tapped a few keys, waited, tapped a few more keys, waited again, and raised her head, smiling broadly. "Space guys, typical. Code is 1969."

Not fully convinced, En tapped the four-digit code into the keypad, shooing the lazy spider off it, and with a soft beep the keypad accepted the code, and the door slid into the ground, making a loud, pneumatic _whoosh_.

Watkins tucked her computer back in her leg pack. "Easy money."

With a grin, Melissa commented, "The things Brotherhood girls can be good for."

"You can program?" En asked, sounding more incredulous than she'd intended.

"Well yeah," Watkins replied, as if it was the most evident thing in the world. "Senior Scribe Taggart taught me a lot. Often while he was trying to stare down my shirt, but he's only human?"

"My dear young lady," Meyers praised, "you become more surreal with every talent you display." The old geezer actually looked star struck.

Watkins was far less flowery. "I'm just a normal girl who was lucky enough to be taught by the Brotherhood? And it's just basic stuff, but yeah, I suppose I am pretty amazing?"

Given the earlier revelation about Senior Scribe Taggart and his propensity for choosing students based on other things than talent, En figured Watkins was probably not exactly a first-class programmer, far from it, but she apparently had the basics down, so that was just peachy.

"If I was twenty years younger," Meyers continued his adoration, "I would have been your helpless enraptured slave."

"Come on, _stop_," Watkins laughed, but En could tell she was quite pleased with the attention and the appreciation.

"Alright, let's get goin', yeah?" Melissa grunted impatiently. "Plenty of time for lechery later."

"Dark in here too," Meyers observed. He held the MP like a pistol, with one hand cradling the other, and he'd set the weapon to single shot mode. En had her rifle across her back, because it was pretty useless in close quarters anyway. The beretta was a better choice at the moment. En wasn't a fan of moments in which the beretta was the better choice.

Melissa, however, took point, confident as ever, holding out the P90. She'd passed the maglite back to Watkins and told her to light the way. Watkins had silently obliged, with Meyers next to her and En bringing up the rear. No words had needed to be said, everyone simply took his position as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The corridors were dark, but in the cone of the flashlight, they could make out strong steel walls with narrow, long arrows in various colours, pointing toward different areas of the base. One sleek red one said "LAUNCH PAD" in military stencil letters. For some reason, the font reminded En of an old Pre-war show where four military fugitives drove around in a black van. Rats scurried across the floors, looking for cables to gnaw on, pantries to break into, filth to roll in, and whatever else it was rats did. None of them, thankfully, were of the oversized, or pig, or mole variety. They were pretty harmless in open terrain, but here in these tunnels, they could surprise many an intrepid adventurer. Despite the darkness, cold, and creepy atmosphere, En grinned to herself when she realized calling themselves 'intrepid adventurers' was pretty cool. The stories she'd have to tell when she came home!

"Eek!" Watkins exclaimed. "There was a _rat_! It ran _over my shoe_!" The prissy indignation she yelped it with made En's smile broaden even further.

"Stay close to me, dear," Meyers (predictably) said to her. Stay close, indeed.

"One time, a rat snuggled right in my pants when I slept," Melissa said. "Pretty unpleasant surprise when I put 'em on."

"I'll bet," Meyers said. "Probably just as big a surprise for the rat."

"Yeah, you can say that again. Little mongrel got so panicked he bit me in the ass," Melissa said. "True story."

En practically _heard_ Watkins shudder.

"I take it you got seriously ill?" Meyers asked, Melissa's rather uncomfortable story capturing everyone's attention for the time being.

"Bloody oath. Let's just say that for two days, I was a human fire hose. On both ends."

"Awh, Melissa, _ewww_!"Watkins let out, prompting a giggle from En and a happy-to-shock laugh from Melissa.

"Yeah, the port-a-potty I claimed in Red Rock was a battlefield." She suddenly stopped walking and fell silent. En thought she could guess why. Even for a badass bruiser like Melissa, having old memories of your former life resurface was tough.

"You okay, Melissa?" Watkins asked, concerned.

She shook her head to clear it and almost unnoticeably drove the painful memories away. "Yeah, babe, I'm good." Melissa wasn't the kind to open up to people, especially right off the bat, En knew that, but that was a shame, because both Melissas had been expelled from their respective factions, left to wander alone, and teaming up with En because, well, it was better than being alone. Not that En minded, or interpreted it as a reason to be insecure herself, not at all, she was certain either of them didn't regret the decision of tagging along, but yeah, if they'd had a choice, they'd probably be back with their old groups now, instead of part of a ragtag band of misfits cruising the Wastes on a personal little vision quest. Still they were having fun most of the time, and that's what mattered, right?

Silently, Melissa moved on, the rest of the mismatched squad following. They kept going through the narrow corridor until they came to a T-intersection. One side was open, the other was blocked by a heavy bulkhead, and the control mechanism was completely fried, dangling from a wire, not even emitting a single spark or zap.

"Careful," En warned. "Exposed wires, voltage can give you a serious jolt, even if they look dead."

"Wonder why someone broke the door control," Meyers said. "Doesn't really make sense."

"Well, we'll see," Melissa said, "as soon as jillaroo here works her magic on that junk, yeah?"

En felt herself make an insecure face. "I don't know… it's kinda dangerous to be messing with electrical equipment while we're not sure the power's off. Wouldn't want to treat you to the sight of me clinging to that wire, my skin turning black and my eyeballs popping." She wouldn't want to treat herself to the feeling either. "If we want to get in there – _if_ – then we need to find a way to cut the power first."

Meyers said, "Question is, was this door control busted to keep people out, or to keep something in?"

En made a joking, "Dun-dun-dunnnnnnn!"

"I'm serious, little lady," Meyers scolded. "We don't know what's behind that door."

Melissa, of course, was unimpressed. "Can't be worse than that deathclaw we shot the stuffin' out of yesterday."

"Whoa," Watkins breathed. "You guys killed a deathclaw? Like, a fully grown, eight feet tall one?"

Not without pride, En said, "Uh huh."

"Shot the shit out of it," Melissa confirmed, proudly nudging En with her elbow. It made her feel all awesome inside.

Meyers topped it off with, "the foul monster was gloriously slain by our undefeatable trinity." It sounded weird to hear such flowery language coming from this drawling old cowboy.

"I should be safe with you guys then?"

Meyers ticked the rim of his stetson. "Indeed, fair lady, but stay close to me just the same."

Melissa shook her head and looked into the other corridor. "Never miss a chance, do you, old geezer?"

"Nope."

"Come on," En decided the matter. "Let's see what's down this end. Maybe there's an electrical box we can shut off so I can bang around on that door control without vaporizing myself."

The other hallway went straight ahead for a long time, with a door in the side wall after several decametres. This one was intact, but the controls didn't have power either, so until they got the power restored, there was very little they could do. As En shifted her footing to proceed forward again, she felt her foot tread on something soft.

"Oh, hey, watch it!" Watkins hissed at her. "It's not like I have huge feet or anything?"

"Sorry."

"There is very little point," Meyers pointed out impatiently, "trying to advance through a complex cautiously and quietly, if you both are going to make enough noise to wake Cervantes."

"Right, sorry," En said. Again.

Melissa wasn't bothered by such little things as people being noisy, and she'd advanced towards the doorway, this one a normal door with a knob and a cylinder lock. Melissa nudged her head at En to open the door as she pointed the P90 at it, ready to blast anything that could be hiding behind it. Her palms sweaty with tension, En wrapped her fingers around the door handle and pulled. Melissa quickly swept her weapon inside, but then said, "Clear, "walking in and telling the others, "You can relax for a bit. This is a dead end."

The 'dead end' was a large room, with consoles set into the walls, and long-broken computers lying scattered across the floor, their main units the beheaded bodies to their chopped-off monitors. Old clipboards were scattered across the floor, the papers on them reduced to fuzzy scraps after years of rats and exposure. Empty coffee cups stood on metal tables, the coffee remains inside them now so embedded they'd become part of the ceramic, and dust coated everything, from the floor to the consoles screwed into the wall, to the high transmitter trolley wheeled against the other side of the room. In the dust, footprints could be seen, several pairs, going to the console on the far wall and then back again. The console in question was the only machine that still exhibited some signs of life, though those signs were nothing more than a smoky, sparky death rattle. The thing had apparently shorted out or overheated. The wall above the console was open, creating a large panoramic opening that apparently looked out over the ground below, but it was too dark to see, and Leza's flashlight couldn't penetrate deep enough into the darkness.

"Think that panel shorted out durin' use?" Meyers asked En. It wasn't without pride that she noticed that people instantly asked tech questions directly at her, rather than at the group in general.

"Yeah, probably, but after it did what it was supposed to," she said. "Whatever they did here, that launch worked, right? I mean, as well as such a thing can go." It wouldn't be shoddy construction, the answer was actually far more obvious. "Reason it shorted is because of all the dust. Gets between the keys, and from there onto the electronics. Builds up heat there, and shorts out or melts the circuitry."

"Think that was the reason the door controls blew?" Melissa asked, pointlessly keeping the P90 on the entrance.

Watkins stuffed her hands in the pockets of her recon armour, and answered in En's stead, "Probably yeah."

"Nu-_uh_," En corrected her, irritated. She'd have forgiven a layman to say such silliness, but that Watkins didn't know better showed she wasn't exactly a pro, and the question was asked at En, to boot. "Doors will be on a totally different circuit. Seriously, that's Electronics 101."

"Oh." Watkins said quietly. "Yeah, probably."

"Not probably," En insisted, sounding more pedantic than she intended to, "Actually."

The young woman looked rather let down, making En regret her fussy tone. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

En supposed an apology was in order, regardless how hard she felt having to give them. "Sorry, Leza, I become a bit of a know-it-all when stuff like that's involved."

"Seems so," she said, getting some of her good cheer back. "A lesser person might feel talked down to?"

"Yeah," En admitted sheepishly. "Wasn't my intention." It had been, a bit, because too many people talked out of their asses, and for most people it was forgivable, but not for those who should know better. Who'd had all the opportunities to learn things and ended up knowing nothing. Leza was probably just a case of slight airheadedness, but it was a bad habit, and En didn't mind giving those people a jolt every once in a while to get them to break it, even if it were people she'd taken a liking to, like Watkins. Whether you liked someone or not wasn't really important when it came to getting facts straight. Still, En had learned that it was usually more sensible to just say she hadn't meant it that way, so people didn't feel bitter afterwards, especially those she liked.

"Cool," Watkins said with a bounce. "But yeah, you're right, don't now what I was thinkin'?"

"It's been a chaotic day for you," En decided, letting the subject drop on a positive note. "Anyway, I think that's just the thing I need to mess around with to get these doors back open."

On the other wall was a big iron box, the door hanging open on one hinge, and three lines of fuses connected to wires hanging from a panel inside. The much-maligned fuse box.

"Have some light, Leza?"

She's apparently forgotten their little sour moment, enthusiastically saying, "Sure," and looking over En's shoulder as she inspected the fuse box. Brotherhood people lived in a bunker, with all sanitary accommodations present, and Leza smelled like it, not exuding the sour smell of stale sweat most travellers (including En probably, _embarrassing_) had hanging around them, but smelling like shower gel and a subtle hint of fresh flowery perfume. Hm, pleasant, even if it was a bit confrontational regarding En's own (probably horrible) smell. Bah, she'd shower when she got back from Novac.

Anyway, the fuse box. One of the fuses was molten and blackened, probably blown when the door controls had failed. But why had they failed in the first place? The panel on the first door had looked deliberately smashed. That explained why the fuse had melted through, but why had someone destroyed those controls in the first place? Ah well, no point speculating without any information to go on. The fuse for the lights had blown as well, but that looked more like a traditional end-of-life malfunction.

She pulled down the main lever and all electricity shut off, even the zapping of the shorted console. In the white circle of Leza's flashlight, En took out the popped lights fuse and the warped, molten doors fuse. Then she pried the launch pad fuse loose and clicked that into the lights slot. Pulling the main lever made the lights start up with a low hum and a flicker of bright white that stayed on after a few blinks, every flicker making En's head hurt a little more.

"Yay!" Watkins exclaimed, turning her maglite off. Somehow turning the lights on had made the place a whole lot smaller.

"Well done, little lady," Meyers congratulated her.

En took an exaggerated bow. "I left the doors' fuse out so I can safely work on the control panels, which is what I'm gonna do right now."

The trip back to the smashed door control was much faster than the last time, with the lights back on. The panel had been banged up pretty good, the housing cracked open and the wires exposed. Still, nothing that was irreparable, since the actual motor and mechanism to operate the door was embedded in the wall. The control was just that: a control, a switch that sent an electrical signal to the motor. Deftly, En twisted the torn wire ends around their respective counterparts, isolated them with some duct tape, and made a short nod at her own handiwork. Then she jogged back and clicked the fuse back in. This time the control worked perfectly, and as she ticked the two remaining wire ends against each other, the door slid upward with a gentle hiss. "Open!"

Melissa stopped leaning against the wall and got the P90 ready while Meyers and Leza lazily trudged towards them. "Careful, jillaroo," Melissa said. "We don't know why this was closed off. I'll go first."

Melissa sneaked through the corridor like a ninja clan leader, not making a single noise. En stayed a few metres back, and Watkins and Meyers were even farther behind. This corridor wasn't like the others. Those had been dirty but showed no signs of violence. In this one, a few bodies lay on the ground here and there, brutally dismembered. All of them were ghouls, and all of them wore those same robes. Old blood had spattered the walls, dried and brown now.

"I… don't like this," Watkins whispered.

"Stay close to me," Meyers repeated, but this time his intent was completely different.

Melissa only gestured for them to be quiet, without even turning her head, then she abruptly stopped, peering around the corner. En also stopped, resisting the urge to ask her what was wrong. Then, after a few seconds, Melissa turned her head. "Back! Get back!" she whispered, turning towards them and jabbing her finger furiously at the exit. Not understanding, En began walking backwards, turning and breaking into a run as she saw Melissa do the same.

"Melissa, what the – " Leza protested, but Meyer grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. "Come on, no time for questions, if she says back, then get back!"

Then the ground began to vibrate, and the roars came from behind them. Whatever it was, it had noticed them. "Get to the door, hurry!" Melissa shouted, sounding not panicked, thankfully, but not exactly icy calm either. En heard Melissa's boots thudding on the floor behind her. The ground shook harder, turning from barely perceptible trembles into hard vibrations. And the roaring came closer too. In front of her, Leza and Meyers were sprinting for the exit and reached the door, both grabbing the door frame on their side and turning out of the doorway. And when Leza stuck her head back in, En saw her eyes widen. The next moment, Meyers stuck the MP through the doorway, took aim and shouted, "Get down!"

En felt her body unable to comply with the order, a brief split second of hesitation taking ages, until Melissa body-slammed into her and knocked her to the ground. As she fell, En felt something big, fast and heavy swing past her head, and then Meyers fired, the bang-bang-bang of the single-shot MP smashing through the hallways, amplified by the steel walls, and into her eardrums. She came down on the steel floor, and managed to look up.

The big green super mutant crashed down, tripping over their fallen bodies and brought off balance by the impacts of the MP, thankfully being thrown over Melissa and En, though one of its massive naked feet whacked Melissa straight in the face, smacking it into the floor. Then the body came down, the ground quaking with its weight. There were another couple dry bangs, followed by the awful wet thuds of bullets impacting a body. Still the super mutant groaned, pushed itself up on its elbows, and got back to its feet, picking up the enormous spear-like weapon it had been holding (and had almost taken En's head off with).

Melissa lay limp and motionless on the ground, the P90 out of En's reach. She didn't have the presence of mind to whip out the beretta so all she could do was raise her arms in front of her face in a useless protective gesture. A beam of light cut the air above her, and through the super mutant's shoulder, sending charred ashes flying out of its deltoid. The super mutant raised the titanic weapon with its remaining good arm, and roared over En, ready to bring it down. Air forced itself out of her lungs and she heard herself shrieking in fear.

Three more bangs sounded, and the mutant's face exploded outward, one eye being smacked out of its skull and hanging by the optic nerve. Another beam of light passed overhead and bit through the mutant's throat, making a clean, charred cut in the side. Then there was another bang, smashing out of the creature's forehead in a blast of blood, tissue, skull fragments and brain. The mutant stood motionless for a moment, still holding its weapon high, and then, with a low, long groan, fell forward, crashing down on top of En, crushing her into darkness.


	24. Bloody Tears

**.**

**TWENTY-FOUR**

**REPCONN HQ, underground**

**July 3rd**

**18:43**

"En? Ennie, are you alright?"

_Ennie? That didn't sound right._

"C'mon, help me get this weight off her."

Right, there was a massive force on top of her, almost crushing her against the steel floor. As En's awareness returned, she felt the enormous mass on top of her, pushing her ribs flat and pressing her face against the floor so hard her jew felt almost ready to pop out. Breathing was next to impossible, and all her eyes could see was a narrow stripe of light where the floor and the enormous thing on top of her didn't quite touch.

There was a grunting sound and the weight shifted a little, but then settled back in its original, crushing position.

"Leza, come on, pull!"

The grunt sounded again, joined by a lighter one, and the weight moved again, staying in that distribution for a short moment before going back to the way it was.

"Ennie, say something, okay?"

With the enormous mass on top of her, En couldn't even inhale more than what was necessary to stay alive, so all she could do was slap her one free hand on the floor. The texture she felt on her face wasn't leathery or skin-like, but the coarse rough surface of denim. Ugh, the big green bastard had its groin on her face.

"Yes!" the triumphant voice of Leza Watkins sounded. "She's alright!"

"She won't be for long if we don't get this thing off her," Meyers barked. "Now get... wait, Melissa! Melissa, you hear me?"

There was the sound of shuffling next to her, followed by an inarticulate groan. Shit, yeah, Melissa. What had happened to her again? Oh right, a foot to the face. The foot of the super mutant that now lay on top of En. En hoped she was okay, but she was in too rotten a position to do more than that.

"Melissa, help us get this thing off En, hurry."

Meyers' urgency was a bit unnecessary, but En did agree that the faster this huge son of a bitch was off her, the better. If only because there might still be more coming, and this wasn't really the ideal position to fight in. En's muscles were hurting like crazy from the cramped position she was in, and her head pounded like it had a crazed horse inside of it.

"Come on, Melis_sa_," Watkins' voice whined.

Annoyed Melissa voice, "Yeah, yeah, don't do yer blocks, I'm comin'."

Meyers again. "Alright, on three. One, two, _three_!"

On three, En also pushed herself off the floor as hard as she could. The weight shifted again, and this time it rolled off her, freeing her and letting her lungs expand and fill themselves with wonderful stagnant dusty air. "Oh crap am I glad that thing's off me!"

Without warning, Leza flung her arms around En and hugged her tightly. "Thank God you're okay, Ennie! When I saw that huge thing crash down on you, I thought you were a goner?"

"Err, nope, I'm good, apart from the fact that I'm back to being crushed."

As if struck by a jolt of electricity, Watkins let go. "Oh! Right! Sorry?"

"Not hurt?" Meyers asked, concerned.

En shook her head, neverminding the pounding. "Got a face full of super mutant wing-wong, but I'm fine. A bit flattened, but I'll live."

"You, Melissa?"

Melissa looked insecure of how to answer, gently touching the side of her face with her fingertips. "I'm... I think I'm pretty hurt, actually."

It was only then that En saw the haemorrhaging in Melissa's eyeball and the massive swelling on the side of her face. That super mutant had got her good. "Geez, Melissa," she said. "Are you... Can you see?"

Melissa closed her one eye, then the other and back again in a comical-looking winking motion, then said, "Yeah, bit blurred on one side, but I'm sure that's no biggie. Side of my face hurts like the Hells though. Feels swollen too." She winced when she pressed her fingers against it.

Watkins had a pained face. "It looks... pretty bad, yeah."

"Injuries always look worse than they are," Melissa decided with a shrug. "Now let's get the frak out of here, before more of these mongrels show up." She walked back to the door with the busted control.

Meyers nodded. "Amen to that."

"Well," En said as she tore the doors fuse back out of the fusebox, "at least we know why they closed off that passage."

"And what killed these ghouls," Meyers added.

Still looking concerned at Melissa, Watkins said, "I think we best get back topside."

Melissa was holding the side of her face and looked pained, her eyebrows betraying that she was really hurting. Her eyes said what her mouth never could: that she was suffering and really needed help.

"Yeah," En said, determined once she'd seen Melissa's eyes. "Let's go. I don't care what kind of goodies we leave behind, but we need to get you looked at, Melissa."

"I'll... take some painkillers," Melissa said without much conviction, reaching into her vest pocket. "I'll be okay."

Leza held out a water bottle, which she took to wash the pills down with.

"Still," En said. "I know you're hanging tough, but I don't want you to stay here in agony, meters below the ground. No way. We're going back up, and out of here, and we're walking back to Novac."

Melissa looked like she really wished she could protest. "... Yeah, alright." The right sclera of her right eye was completely red with haemorrhaging. Well, at least she still saw, so that meant the eye probably wasn't badly damaged. It did look pretty awful though. She shook two pills out of the ibuprofen bottle and clapped her hand onto her mouth, chasing the pills down with water from the bottle Leza had handed her.

As they returned to the surface, Meyers pointed out, "You were lucky our amazon friend bowled you over when she did. That mutant would have hacked your head clean off, otherwise."

She'd forgotten about that. "Yeah. Thanks, Melissa. I mean it."

Still with a pained face, Melissa made a throw-away gesture. "It's all peachy."

"Weird thing, that weapon," Watkins said, more to herself than anyone in particular. "Looked like a helicopter blade stuck to a pole."

"Super mutants," Meyers informed her, "are masters at improvising big things to inflict pain with."

They were back in the 'normal' REPCONN headquarters now, and En encouraged her friends with, "Come on, if we hurry we can see the last bit of sun."

But everyone seemed busy with their own thoughts, and the only response she got was the rattling of the ibuprofen bottle as Melissa shook two more into her hand.

"Novac's actually not that far away," En mumbled as she checked her Pip-boy in the orange glare of the evening sun. "We really got lost on the way here."

"And whose fault is that, hmm?" Meyers goaded.

With a shrug, En said, "I didn't see you people point the right way."

"This is true," Meyers had to admit.

"What's in Novac?" Watkins asked, frowning in confusion, causing En to roll her eyes.

"Duh, Leza! I told you about Sunny and Ringo and our hotel room, didn't I?"

"Oh! Right."

Melissa stopped walking, and looked back at En with a heartbreaking look on her face. "Can we… stop and sit down for a minute?"

If Melissa was asking for a break then she must be in intolerable pain. "Of course, Melissa. I need to go for a pee anyway." She turned to find a spot with some privacy, but then she reached into her backpack, her fingers looking for the plastic tube of a stimpak. She dug it out and tossed it to Melissa. "Here."

Though she deftly caught it with one hand, Melissa protested, "I can't use this, this isn't life-threatening. We might need these if – "

"Melissa, you're shaking from the pain. Take the stim. It's alright."

"Yeah, Melissa," Watkins echoed fiercely. "Stop being such a tough guy?"

Even though Watkins really didn't have a say over who got to use which stims, En was glad she was so vocal in wanting to help Melissa. And it had effect, because Melissa rolled her eyes, winced from the pain as she did it, and then admitted, "Fine, I'll use one. Just feels like a waste."

"Not a waste if it lessens unbearable pain," En pointed out, then she turned and looked for a place to pee. How she _hated_ peeing! It just wasn't fair. Watkins had probably shacked up with half the Brotherhood already and showed no sign of discomfort, and En had taken a chance with a guy _once_, and bam!, fiery pee for her birthday. She should blame the guy she'd slept with, but she'd always been taught everyone was responsible for his own safety when it came to sex, and she supposed that was the truth.

She squatted down behind a rock and set her teeth, preparing for the searing pain that was to come. And come it did, a white hot, barbed spear that felt like it tore her in two from below. She heard a whimper escape her lips, and then it was done. She let out the air in her lungs and stayed squatted for a while to get her breath back. She really should see a doctor. And again she resolved to talk to one, and again she knew she'd chicken out when she had the chance.

She came back in time to see Melissa toss the empty stim into the Wastes. "Might have been a waste, but it sure feels good," Melissa told her.

"Glad to hear it. Now let's get you to a doctor before that thing wears off."

The trip back was mostly spent listening to Watkins chatter away about her parents and about the dilemma they'd presented her. Mother was a Scribe and father was a Knight in the Brotherhood, and both had somewhat made it known that they'd like for their daughter to follow in their footsteps. And even though the point seemed moot at this moment, Watkins was still undecided, saying both paths had their advantages and proceeding to name them all. Meyers snuck in the occasional lecherous remark, En took the few chances there were to be funny, and Melissa just walked in agonized silence.

As they reached Novac, and rapped on the door of doctor Strauss' practice, En couldn't resist remarking, "Pretty sure the doc will make a fuss about what irresponsible children we are."

And indeed, the first thing the doctor said when she saw Melissa's swollen, bruised face was, "What have you been up to _this time_? Can't I turn my back on you people for _once_?"

"Healing first, lectures later, please doc?" Melissa told her.

With a loud harrumph, Strauss took Melissa by the elbow and led her into her practice.

Meyers craned his head to look at the Pip-boy on En's arm. "It's as good as dinner time. Got some caps? I'll go see if I can't rustle up a few more steaks."

Absently, En passed him seventy caps. That ought to do it. "I'll stay here and wait for Melissa, if you don't mind?"

Watkins flung herself down on the sofa in Strauss' waiting room. "I'll keep you company."

"Sure."

There were a few moments of silence, and at length En got the courage to ask, "Hey Watkins?"

Leza had already laid her head back and had her eyes closed. "Mm?"

Now to put this gently. "I uh... maybe I might offend you asking this, and all, but um..."

"I'm almost unoffendable, Ennie, go ahead, ask?"

En briefly contemplated asking her to stop saying 'Ennie', but she decided not to. "Well, you've um... had a few sex partners, right?"

"A few?" Watkins laughed at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess I'm not exactly the holy virgin?"

En felt herself fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. "Have you ever, um…"

Watkins opened her eyes again and looked at En with the one that wasn't covered by the lock of yellow hair, sitting up straight again. "Ever what?"

"Well – "

Before En could finish, the door opened and Ringo stuck his head in. It had only been a day, but it was great to see him again. Briefly, worry flared up in En's chest about Sunny's reaction the other day, but she decided to ignore it. "Hey, Ringo!"

"Hello, miss En!," Ringo called back cheerfully. "I brought someone to see you."

Waddling in behind Ringo, on crutches, was Sunny. She looked alright apart from the pained face she occasionally made when shifting her weight.

En jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around the first friend she'd made in the Mojave. "Yay, Sunny!"

"Hey sweetie," Sunny said back, sounding tired but no longer hostile.

"She's been straining under the weight of contrition the whole day," Ringo told her quietly, yet still loud enough that Sunny could hear.

"Yeah," Sunny said. "I was ugly to you, even though it wasn't your fault. I was just... you know." Her eyes became misty again.

"Aw, that's okay, Sunny! You're still my B.F.F.!"

Sunny gave a sad smile. "Glad to hear it."

"So uh," Ringo said, sober as always. "Heard our robust friend got a little maltreated during your little expedition?"

En stuffed her hands in her back pocket. "Yeah. Hope she's doing alright. She was really hurting."

Ringo raised an eyebrow. "And actually showing it?"

"Believe it or not."

"Must have been bad then," Sunny remarked, supporting herself on her crutches. Her usually tight ponytail was messy now, loose strands hanging in front of her face. En figured it was only logical that personal grooming wasn't too high on her priority list now. At least the red bloatfly welts on her face were almost completely gone.

"Cheyenne not with you?"

Sunny nudged her head towards the door. "She's waiting outside like a good girl. Doctor's office is no place for doggies."

"Hi," Watkins suddenly appeared next to En, holding out her hand. "Sunny and Ringo. I've heard a lot of good things about you?"

Sunny's face immediately darkened. "And you are…?" She ignored the hand Watkins had stuck out.

Watkins was undeterred, still holding out her hand and smiling. "Leza Watkins. Came back with En?"

Sunny's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, are you telling me or asking me?"

This time Watkins did blink and lower her hand. "I'm… not sure what the idea is here?"

"Sunny," En scolded. "Be nice, come on." She didn't really know where the hostility came from, but Sunny had had a few trying days, so she hoped it was simply due to that.

"Don't take it too personally, miss," Ringo said cautiously. "It's been a hard few days on all of us." He held out his hand.

"Yeah," Watkins said quietly, shaking it. "I heard."

After a short moment, Sunny grudgingly shifted her weight to one of her crutches and shook Watkins' hand. "Sorry. Like he said, I'm not exactly at my most cheerful right now."

Watkins' smile came back. "That's alright, I'm not taking it personally."

"I must say," Ringo told her, "I _love_ your hair! I've always been partial to the lock over one eye." Figured hair-doing Ringo would be pleased to see someone cut her hair with style.

Watkins actually turned a bit red. "Thanks."

"Isn't it annoying that you can't see anything?" Sunny asked sourly. "I mean, you can't see through one eye. Hardly functional, is it?"

"You… get used to it."

"So," Ringo asked, sounding interested. "Since you are already privy to so much biographical information about us, how about telling us a little bit about yourself too?"

Watkins gave a sheepish look. "It's kinda embarrassing."

"Excellent!" Ringo cheered, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He helped Sunny down on the sofa and motioned Watkins to sit down as well. "Embarrassing is my favourite! Tell us all."

"Well, I'm actually kinda sorta with the Brotherhood – "

"Oh." Ringo's enthusiasm suddenly seemed to plummet. Right, En really had to ask what the deal between the Brotherhood and the NCR was. But right now, maybe it was a good thing that Ringo was a bit less spirited about Watkins' presence. Because right now, what En had worried about looked to be coming to pass. She saw it in Sunny's eyes too. Though of course, maybe Ringo was just interested in her as a person.

"So uh, I was kinda sent on a… well, a mission?" She quickly exchanged a glance with En to make sure she played along. "So I won't be going back for a while, and tagging along with you guys seems to be a good idea. Ennie's told me a lot of good things about you, so I'm looking forward to travelling together."

Sunny raised an eyebrow at En and mouthed, _Ennie?_, to which En could only reply with an uncomfortable shrug. She hadn't expected Sunny's reaction to be _that_ negative. Meanwhile Watkins sat talking about what they did at the REPCONN site, telling the tale of the evil super mutant with busy gesticulating, Ringo listening intently as she acted out Melissa's desperate dive to save En's head. Sunny's mood became even less, well, sunny as the story progressed and Leza kept banging on about how Melissa had saved En's skin and what a badass scrapper she was.

"Well," Sunny suddenly interrupted. "I'm definitely glad to hear you're making new friends." She rose laboriously, supporting herself on her crutches, and turned to the door. "You know, out with the old, in with the new, and all."

"Honey, what's that supposed t – " Ringo began, but Sunny cut her off.

"It means what it means." And with that, Sunny hobbled out.

Ringo sighed, apparently realizing that he might have been a little too friendly with the gorgeous, immaculate-skinned blonde beauty who unwillingly but clearly upstaged his injured girlfriend. And made that same person feel useless by gushing so much over Melissa's efficiency in protecting En. "I should… probably go after her," he said, looking guilty.

En shook her head and got up. "I'll go. She might be more receptive to me."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Geez, sorry," Watkins apologized, looking sincerely guilty, sitting on the sofa with her legs together and her hands in her lap. "I was just being, you know, enthusiastic?"

"Don't worry," En said, "You didn't do anything wrong." _Not on purpose, anyway._

She went after Sunny, catching up with her as she hobbled back to the motel, Cheyenne trotting beside her. "Hey, Sunny, what's wrong?" _Ugh, dumbass question, you _know_ what's wrong_.

"Nothing's wrong, En," Sunny said curtly, looking at her feet and her crutches.

"Hey. Don't go all married-woman on me. Sunny, I don't like to see you feeling like this."

Sunny stopped hobbling, glaring at En. "Then maybe you shouldn't have brought miss blonde bimbo with the slutty haircut back with you."

"Whoa. Sunny, that's uncalled for." En suddenly felt immensely tired, her usual headache picking up intensity. Sunny set her jaw and looked away.

"Hey," En tried again. "Ringo's a stand-up guy, right? He's not just going to trade you for someone else."

Sunny's eyes flicked back to En. "If he wants to, then I sure as Hell hope he does."

Ugh, that had been a stupid thing to say. "I mean, just because he's friendly to her doesn't mean he wants to get in her pants."

She snorted. "I bet she's more than willing to get into his."

"Sunny, come _on_. You don't know the first thing about her." Watkins wasn't exactly the holy virgin, as she'd admitted herself, but that didn't mean Sunny had the right to just leap to that conclusion without a reason. "Sure, she's a bit flirty, but I really think she's a good kid."

"She's not a kid. You are."

En rolled her eyes and let out a grunting sigh. "You _know_ what I mean!"

Sunny jabbed one of her crutches at En. "I thought you were different, En. I really thought you were. But here you are, trading in your toys for new ones the second they get broken, just like every fucking teenager."

A few hard days or not, this was grossly unfair. "Sunny. You're my friend and I care about you, but stop taking it out on me. I'm serious, I understand how you're feeling, but you're seriously crossing the line here." The tiredness became worse, draining almost all her energy.

"Then just ask your personal bodyguard to protect you. After all, she does such a better job than I possibly can. Her for me, it's a good trade."

En felt herself lose her temper. "Nobody's trading anyone, Sunny! God dammit! Will you stop your damn drama already!" She regretted the words as soon as she'd said them, but Sunny's whining was giving her a tremendous headache.

"My drama? Is that what this is to you?"

Argh. Dammit, that had just made it ten times worse. En took a breath to calm down and give herself a few seconds to think, because she knew what she said now would matter a _lot._ "Sunny. Leza came with us because she had nowhere else to go, not because we needed her. I've spent the last few days worrying about you, hoping you'd be alright." She carefully laid a hand on top of Sunny's, still on her crutch. "Stop doing this to me and to yourself. You're still my best friend and no blonde airhead or manly battleaxe can change that." Maybe it wasn't nice to talk about the others that way, but the end justified the means in this case. And it was a lie too, Allison was still her best friend and would be for as long as she lived, but Sunny didn't need to know that. White lie and all. But damn, Sunny sure was being incredibly clingy and insecure. En felt like she was the adult talking to the teenager.

Still, the little charm offensive had worked. Sunny raised her head and said quietly, "I should be able to walk without the crutches tomorrow. So I can come along if you'll still have me."

En was briefly tempted to say _not if you keep acting like that I won't_, but she managed to say, "I want to finish what we started together and show you my hometown. Nothing can change that."

"Hey miss En, doctor wants to see you," Ringo called from the doorway.

"Go on," Sunny said quietly. "Ringo and me have a few things to talk about too."

En gave Sunny a light kiss on the cheek. "Alright. Stay with me, alright? We're gonna find that guy together." It was a bit of a pain having to provide confirmation for her all the time, and to be entirely honest with herself, she didn't look up to Sunny all that much anymore after the last few days, but she was still her friend, and you need to stand by them, right? God, but how tired she suddenly felt.

"We'll see," was all Sunny said.

En didn't have the strength for even more reassurance, so she simply turned away and walked back to the doctor's practice, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at Sunny as she passed Ringo. "I think she needs to have a word with you. Kids' gloves required."

Ringo's expression promptly darkened. "She's been through a lot, and all because she wanted to help you. She doesn't deserve your condescension."

As she went through the door, En merely said, "And I don't deserve her complaining."

Ringo shot her an angry look, but said nothing more, then walked towards Sunny. Damnit. She'd really blown that one. She couldn't help it though, she'd never had much patience for neediness and clingy insecurity.

Watkins sat on the sofa in the waiting room, giving En a stupid look of guilt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – "

En shut her up by raising her hand. "Don't you start too. My head hurts bad enough already, and I've had enough whining for one day."

Watkins looked genuinely indignant. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Leza. Seriously. You don't want me to answer that."

Watkins looked away and crossed her arms. "Wow. Talk about acting your age."

En only sighed and threw herself down on the other sofa, holding a hand to her eyes in a pointless gesture to lessen the headache. It was pounding so hard a faint white light pulsed in front of her closed eyes.

She heard a door open, and Strauss' voice. "When you're done bickering, you might be interested in what state your friend is in."

Right, Melissa. Headache or no, patience at an end or no, she _was_ worried about Melissa. And she supposed Sunny too, she simply didn't have the energy to deal with her neediness.

Before she could speak, Watkins said, "Yes, doctor, please tell us."

Strauss first gave En a worried frown. "Are you alright, miss?"

"Headache." She suddenly felt like crying, but contained herself.

"I… see. Well, your friend told me you ran afoul of a super mutant. It got her in the face pretty badly, causing serious orbital rim fracture."

_Speak English, doc, my head's killing me_. "She broke what exactly?"

"Her eye socket, miss. She's really lucky her eye wasn't destroyed."

Watkins held a hand over her mouth. "Geez. Will she be okay?"

"I've given your friend a fresh stim and some military bone-mending agent. She's sleeping now. However, because of the recent trauma she's incurred, I had to be careful in administering drugs."

"Meaning?" En asked.

"It'll take a while to heal and it won't be entirely painless." Strauss turned to Watkins. "Miss, can I ask you to excuse us?"

Watkins blinked. "Excuse you for what?"

The doctor briefly let her eyes pass over En, and then said, "Uh… I mean I need to talk to your friend in private."

"Oh! Right. Sorry." Watkins got up and walked to the door. "Ennie, if you don't mind, I'm going to check with your friend whether or not I should stay. Because I didn't join you guys to cause this kind of stuff."

"Do whatever you want, Leza." It was mean, or at least undeserved, but En really didn't have the energy to be more understanding.

Before she closed the door behind her, Watkins said, "You're better than this, En."

"Leza, I'm just dead tired, okay?"

"I'm just saying." And with that, she closed the door.

Doctor Strauss was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm not going to butt in, but I do need to talk to you about Melissa."

"Why? You said she'd be alright."

Strauss sat down opposite En and looked at her intently. "Miss. Your friend's body's had about as much as it can take. Several large third-degree burns and now severe facial trauma. I know she's a tough one, but this kind of punishment is _dangerous_, miss."

En wished everyone just shut up and left her alone. "Bones mend, skin heals, no permanent damage apart from the scars, so what's the problem?"

"I don't think you realize what she's been through," Strauss insisted. "A third-degree burn the size of a _hand_ can already be fatal! And she's had three of them, and now a skull fracture on top of it. Unless you want her to keep going like a wind-up toy until it breaks, you need to let her rest and recover her strength!" Before En could speak she went on, "and not just for a day or two. I don't know what kind of amateur screw-up mercenary group you're trying to run, but this is simply irresponsible."

En remained silent and closed her eyes. This just kept getting worse.

"Miss. If you care about your friend you'll either stop whatever it is you're doing, or cut her loose."

The tears came like a rushing wave, as they always did for En, and she simply burst out crying. They weren't tears of sadness or of desperation, but they were that kind of tears you could only cry when you were completely, and utterly, without energy. Her lungs hitched so hard she couldn't breathe and during one moment, the first moment since her injury, she felt absolutely no pain in her head, all feeling and sensation seemingly concentrated in the hitching of her ribcage, the rest of her body in absolute unfeeling bliss. It was the worst feeling in the world, but at the same time, also the best. And during that moment, that instant she was at her most tired and weakest, she briefly felt completely free.

Then doctor Strauss' hand touched her shoulder and the world returned to its normal, head-aching, drained self. "Miss, it's not just your friend that needs to recover. You've suffered an extremely traumatic head injury. You shouldn't be travelling like this, let alone get into situations where you have to fight for your life."

"I-I-I'm… alruh-ruh-right," En stuttered as her lungs kept hitching in hard sobs. "Just tuh-tuh-tired."

"Then go to your room and _rest_. Melissa can stay here, I'll keep an eye on her. Rest, get some of your strength back. There's a new day tomorrow."

En wiped her tears, feeling ashamed for showing them to the woman sitting across her. "Yeah. Maybe. Sorry for this."

Strauss shook her head. "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your friends."

En simply didn't have the energy to keep conversing. She stood up and simply said, "I just want to sleep."

"Good. Go on, rest."

She trudged back to the motel on her own and saw Ringo standing on the walkway, smoking a cigarette. The sun had gone down and now Novac was bathed in twilight that turned every colour into shades of blue. Smoke came from the motel kitchen window. Meyers had apparently scored some food, even though En wasn't hungry. Ringo took a drag from his cigarette, the orange dot at the end of it lighting up. "How's Melissa?"

She looked up at him briefly. "She'll be okay. Ringo, can you tell the others I've gone to bed early and that we'll talk in the morning?"

Thankfully, Ringo didn't get difficult. "Certainly. Everyone will understand you can use the rest."

"Thanks."

She dragged herself up the stairs, opened the door to the room she and Melissa occupied, kicked her boots off, got out of the leather get-up that felt like it was choking her, and crawled under the blankets, not looking forward to a few hours of half-asleep fretting. Within seconds after she closed her eyes, however, she fell into a deep and thankfully oblivious sleep.


	25. Want to be Close

**.**

**TWENTY-FIVE**

**Novac, motel room**

**July 4th**

**Morning**

The first thing En felt when waking up was refreshment. Well, no, actually the headache was first, but that never really stopped, as if her head ached on during her sleep. Which it probably did.

She opened her eyes and saw the room was flooded with light, light that didn't do wonders for the painful pulsing in her head. A mop of blonde hair lay on the pillow next to her. Blonde hair, what the… Oh, right. Watkins. She'd apparently made En's room her own without asking. Well, no matter, better that than being woken up for the question.

She groaned and turned over, staring at the ceiling. Why was there a strange feeling of embarrassment in her belly? Oh right, the crying fit. Ewgh, it would be awkward to see Strauss again, yet she had to go there, to pick up smacked-around Melissa. Because regardless of what the doc had said, neither En nor Melissa (she supposed) was prepared to leave her behind. Because she had to face it, several times the group had survived purely on Melissa's badassitude. Besides, doctors were doctors, they always complained that patients needed rest or that they had to take it easy, just so they were certain they were on the safe side. She was certain Melissa would be perfectly fine. All they had to do was avoid any more pointless battles and explorations. Which meant, straight to Boulder City. No detours. And if they found what they were looking for there, they could all go their separate ways or do whatever they wanted. She hoped Sunny and Ringo could be persuaded to come back to New Arroyo with her, even though she was a bit annoyed with Sunny's constant needy clinginess. But they'd all been tired and irritable yesterday, so maybe she was just having a bad day.

Rubbing her hand across her face, she sat up in the bed and stared at the heavy leather pants Sunny had cajoled the Goodsprings store-owner out of. Shit, Sunny. She'd really forgotten how much Sunny had done for her, yesterday. Yeah, she was needy, but she was also someone who wouldn't hesitate to walk through fire for her. She'd been a bit of a little ingrate yesterday. Sigh, another embarrassing conversation to look forward to. She'd probably have to say sorry to Leza too. Stupid little thing hadn't really done anything wrong, well, not intentionally anyway.

She looked back at the heavy leather pants on the ground and contemplated putting on the denim skirt instead, but in the end, she reached down and grabbed the belt of the pants, putting them on.

Watkins let out an irritated groan.

"Morning."

The groan repeated itself.

En shrugged on the heavy reinforced leather jacket and zipped it up to her sternum. No need to turn it into an airtight leather pressure cooker if they weren't expecting trouble.

"What time is it?"

En took her Pip-boy from the night stand and read to her, "Just a little past ten." Hm, that was a nice hour. Almost twelve hours of sleep. No wonder she felt refreshed. Her head still ached, sure, but she had slowly started to accept that it would be part of her life from now on. Well, unless that doctor Usawhatever could help. Was worth a try.

"You need to go to the bathroom?"

"Uh…no, why?"

"Because I gotta?" Watkins lurched out of bed and waddled to the bathroom, her stylish haircut looking like a bale of straw caught in a hurricane. "Wouldn't go in there the next hour if I was you?"

"Uh… okay." It felt like a remark more fitted to Melissa than to her, but alright. Duly noted. Bathroom off limits for the next hour. Gotcha.

Watkins opened the door to the bathroom, but before she could go in, En stopped her, "Hey Leza?"

She turned her crumpled-up face towards En. "Yeah?"

Gah apologizing was hard! "About yesterday, umm…"

Thankfully, Watkins smiled. "That's cool, no need to apologize?"

Phew, that saved her a lot of uncomfortable umm-you-know'ing. "Alright thanks."

"Uh huh. But now I'm gonna…" she pointed at the bathroom.

"Yeah, right. Enjoy."

The sun already stood high in the sky when En trudged out of the motel room. Below her, in the courtyard, Meyers sat on a lounging chair he'd apparently dug up somewhere, reading a book. "Yo, sheriff Meyers."

"Ah," Meyers exclaimed, looking up from his book. "Mornin', little lady. Sleep well?"

"Had worse. You?"

"Short but sweet." He took off his sunglasses. "Ask you somethin' though?"

En leaned on the balcony with her elbows. "Sure."

"You've been callin' everyone by their first name now. So stop bein' stuffy with me, and just say Cliff, alright?"

"Uh… you got it… Cliff." It felt odd to address an old guy with his first name, but alright, if he wanted her to. It'd take some getting used to, but alright, alright. He'd said his first name only once, when they'd broken him out of the can, Melissa and her, and that reminded her of something. "Hey, I've wondered since we got here… what was in that packet you lugged around all the time?"

Meyers grinned broadly. "My most prized possessions, little lady!" He held up his book.

"What, books?"

"Damn straight." He tapped his hand on something En couldn't see behind the lounging chair. "When you're alone in some frontier town, you need things to keep your mind occupied." Sunny or Ringo were nowhere to be found, probably sleeping in, so she went down the stairs, the sun driving the sleepiness from her. As she walked towards Meyers, he lifted up the packet and held it out to her.

The books had titles she'd never seen before. "What is this?" she asked, reading the book titles out loud. "Crow Blood? Ou-Chou and the Scarlet Rabbit? The Lunatic of Pandora 1? The Adventures of Pahkis and Kid Tittle? The Mist Archon?" She'd never heard of those before. "I… can't say I recognize the titles."

"Hey, not many books around anymore," Meyers explained. "I learned a lot from those."

Ah, the next one was one she recognized. "The Count of Monte Cristo. Now that one I do know. Well, I've heard of it."

Meyers' face lit up. "Without any question, my absolute favourite book!"

"Never read it, to be honest." En hadn't read a lot of books, probably because her parents had tried so hard to get her interested in them, which of course had had the reverse effect.

"Oh you should," Meyer said, enthusiastic. "It's a brilliant story of injustice, imprisonment and escape, and vengeance, and of how revenge can go too far and hurt the innocent along with the guilty."

"I see." She looked through the rest of the books. Some had titles she thought she recognized, others had titles completely unknown. One of the covers had a picture of a clown grinning needle-sharp teeth bare. Ugh, looked like the fear of clowns was something of all eras. "Hey, if you like books, I've got a copy of the story of how my city was founded with me?" Her parents always made her take one copy along, so she could drop it off in places where it might be useful. She never did.

"Sure, pass it to me sometime."

En's stomach abruptly growled. That's right, she hadn't even had dinner. The others had (presumably) had a nice juicy brahmin steak, but En had simply been too tired to stay awake long enough to wait for it.

"Some leftover steak in the fridge," Meyers said, his eyes again on his book. "Kitchen."

"Aces!"

Steak wasn't really a common breakfast, but hey, hunger was the best sauce, and even cold, the steak tasted delicious, especially with the jalapeño sauce Meyers had prepared with it. It was a bit spicy for the early hour, but En didn't mind. No matter the hour, if it tastes great, it tastes great.

She finished her breakfast and told Meyers she'd be at the doctor's. He hadn't even heard, completely absorbed in his book. She couldn't make out the title, but the cover was of a young man looking at a painting in horror. The man in the painting was old and worn, but clearly the same person as the one looking on. Hmhm.

She walked to the doctor's office, ignoring the strange old man standing in front of his hut of rags, belting out dire prophecies or whatever.

"Come?"

The doctor looked up as En opened the door. "Ah, our intrepid young andventurer. Feeling better?"

En nodded. "Yeah, thanks. This is for taking care of Melissa and Sunny." She passed her last hundred caps to the doctor, who threw the bag in an open safe without even counting it.

"Melissa is still asleep, but she should wake up any second now."

"Cool. Hey I've been thinking. Is there a reason we didn't just use the Auto-Doc for Melissa?"

Strauss sat down in her own waiting room and motioned for En to do the same. "There is, actually. The Auto-Doc requires fresh chems every time it's put to work, and I used my last pack when your friend needed healing. And to be honest, using the Auto-Doc for a broken eye socket is a bit drastic, no?"

En didn't understand that last bit. "Wait, but you said she was at the end of her strength?"

"She is," Strauss said fiercely, clearly not intent on giving En any reason to push Melissa back into action. "But it's from all the injuries combined, and those injuries are all treated. She needs to recover and rest, no Auto-Doc can do that for her. Besides," she added. "Using the Auto-Doc to treat a healing orbital fracture is like firing a cannon at a mosquito."

"So she's not in bad shape then?"

"I _told_ you she needs rest." Strauss seemed adamant. "The healing burns are more of a concern. You need to give her time to recuperate."

"But she won't fall apart into pieces while a comedy xylophone tune plays?" En joked.

"It's a serious matter, miss."

En sighed. "Doctor, it's like this. I can't wait any longer to go find the man that did this", she pointed at her scar, "to me. And knowing Melissa, she wouldn't _allow_ me to leave her behind even if I wanted to."

"No offense to your friend, but she doesn't seem like the type that would risk falling over dead for some sixteen-year-old."

"Yeah, well, she feels she has to come along."

Strauss' eyes narrowed. "Why?"

En doubted for a moment, but finally found it best to tell the truth. "Because she's also responsible."

"I… see."

"Yeah. Anyway, knowing her, she will come along no matter what, if only to rid herself of the guilt. And I'm pretty sure she won't listen to doctors telling her to lie down."

As if it was rehearsed, the patient room door opened and Melissa lurched out, the side of her face splinted with bright white bandage that contrasted starkly with her dark skin. Her double mohawks stood crooked from lying on them. She was only wearing her bra and leather pants, and En had to swallow when she saw her abs, which were perfectly hard (and tattooed) blocks of muscle. She dragged an infuse hanger behind her, the bag of clear liquid waddling as she moved. "We goin', jillaroo?"

En couldn't resist shooting a smirk at doctor Strauss, whose mouth narrowed to a stripe. "You're not going anywhere, Melissa. You need to rest or you'll keel over dead if you're not careful."

Melissa snorted. "Come off it. I'm feelin' ace."

"Of course you are," Strauss said, agitated and rising to her feet. "You're chock full of chems."

"I'm _fine_, doc. Thanks for all the patchin' up, you're a right cobber, but I got things to do."

Strauss turned to En. "Miss, I suggest you stop her."

Laughing, En said, "Look at her, doc. Now look at me. You think I have any chance of stopping her from doing _anything_?"

"Miss, I must insist that you – "

She was interrupted by Melissa abruptly pulling the baxter needle out of her arm and tossing the bag of liquid onto the table, uncaring about the blood that trickled from the crook of her elbow. "Doc, I'm sincerely chuffed that you worked your magic on me, but I got places to be."

Strauss wasn't giving up just yet. "Melissa, if you keep acting crazy, in this condition, you may very well fall over and die!"

Ignoring the doctor, Melissa stepped over to her, took her by the shoulder and gave her a hard, Italian-style kiss on both cheeks, wincing when she used her damaged side. "Thanks doc, I mean it." Then she clapped her hands together. "Let's shoot off, jillaroo."

"Uh, I don't think so," En said with a grin.

"Oh don't you start!"

Her grin widening, En said, "Put some clothes on first, Captain Brassiere."

Watkins had apparently finished her bathroom-business and taken some extra time to get her hair back into shape, and she was now leaning on the balcony railing, just like En had a while before, dressed in bluejeans and a tight-hugging black tank top. Her laser pistol hung from her hip, looking a bit out of place with her elegant clothing. Apart from that, she looked like one of those pre-War movie stars posters, looking into the distance, flaunting her goods. Because she had them, no question. The strange leather-and-metal armour she'd worn before didn't really emphasize her curves, but this outfit sure did. Sunny had felt insecure before, but wait 'til she saw that. It even made En feel a little inadequate.

"Look at that," Melissa said flatly. "Think she's deliberately showin' off the meat market, or just oblivious?"

"I don't know, Melissa."

"Sunny's gonna do 'er block if Ringo notices it a bit too obviously."

"I know."

"Gonna be a spectacle. You wanna get the popcorn, or should I?"

En frowned. "Not funny, Melissa."

"Yeah, you're right." A short pause. "It's Sunny, better get nachos instead."

"Melis_sa_."

"Lighten up, jillaroo. We're in the Wastes, not in a bloody teenage drama. It's all kid's stuff to me, all that relationship wank. So what if your bloke looks at another girl's gazongas. Long as he ends up in bed with you, nuthin' to worry 'bout, yeah?"

"Well, if he ends up in bed with _only_ you, yeah."

Melissa simply shrugged. "Even then. Nuthin' wrong with playin' on another tennis court. Humans aren't made to be monogamous. It's fightin' your programmin' for your entire life."

They'd reached the courtyard, Meyers' attention for his book significantly decreased since Leza Watkins had gotten in position on the balcony. The dirty old bastard. Well, as long as looking and making leering remarks was all he did, it was all good.

"Hey Melissa," Watkins greeted from the balcony. "Off to a masked ball?"

"That's right," Melissa called back. "Can I borrow that tacky wig of yours though?"

Watkins flashed a grin. "Watch it, you're on thin ice with those hair-remarks?"

"Well," Melissa quietly said to En, "she's a ditz, but at least she can take a joke."

"And pull one," En replied. "I'm pretty sure cellophane over the toilet isn't her only trick."

"So ladies," Meyers said, clapping his book closed. "What's on the to-do list today."

"Boulder City," En said. "But before we leave, I've got some uh… things to set straight. Sunny and Ringo not up yet?"

"Nope."

At that moment, Ringo opened the door of his motel room and found himself face-to-face with Watkins' ass. Face-to-ass, as it were. His eyes briefly widened in surprise, and then he remembered himself. "Morning. No better way to wake up than by an assortment of women shouting at each other instead of actually getting to speaking distance."

"It's almost eleven, lazy-ass," Watkins remarked cheerfully. "And I can see from here that Ennie's all excited about getting to Boulder City, wherever that is."

"Glad you're here to impart this information," Ringo grunted. "Miss En, Sunny's awake. It might be advantageous to go have a talk with her."

"Yeah, I was planning to."

The room was still dark, but Sunny was awake, En could see, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Cheyenne lay on the ground at the foot end of the bed, and only briefly gave En a look, before being assured it was safe and she could close her eyes again.

"Hey Sunny?"

"Oh, it's you. Thought it was Ringo."

"No, no," En said redundantly. "It's me." She sat down on the bed, on Ringo's side. "About yesterday…"

"What?" Not exactly a constructive start.

"I was real tired, Sunny, and I just didn't have the energy to deal with what was bothering you. I shouldn't have been so terse with you, but it's just… I was dead tired."

Sunny turned her face away. "It's alright."

Gah, come on, don't be that way! "Sunny, you're my friend and I didn't mean to make you think I don't care about you."

"Got a funny way of showing it."

Yeah, she definitely didn't intend on making this easy. But god dammit, there was a limit too. "Hey, Sunny, I'm trying to apologize here, but I can't if you keep shutting me out."

Sunny sighed and rolled her eyes in the darkness. "So say it then?"

"Say what?"

"That one thing you should say."

En knew what she meant, but she hated apologizing, always feeling as if it was a sign of weakness, feeling people lost respect for her if she said sorry. She knew Sunny needed to hear it, but that didn't make it easy. Maybe she could sleaze her way into a sort of apology. "Look, like I said, I shouldn't have lost patience."

"Don't make it sound like it' my fault," Sunny snapped. "Say it. Say that one thing you need to say."

Ugh, she really wasn't going to let her off easy, and even though En found it harder and harder to put up with Sunny's constant demanding behaviour, she still needed her, if only to reach their goal together and be able to go back to New Arroyo together or at least part ways as friends. God it was hard to say. "I'm… sorry, Sunny. Okay?"

Sunny was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Let's leave it behind us then."

"Let's." And yet, in En's heart was a barely perceptible feeling of resentment, that she'd had to make such an admission just because Sunny had wanted to hear it. "Come on, time to head for Boulder City."

"Be right there."

Everyone had gotten themselves ready to travel, except sleepy-head Sunny, and they stood waiting in the courtyard, exchanging small talk, Melissa occasionally pointing to the splint on her face, which was probably the topic of conversation. Ringo didn't seem _too_ focused on Watkins' assets. Good.

As they noticed her, Ringo threw her a questioning glance, which she responded with a nod. He nodded back at her and turned back to the conversation.

Melissa seemed especially proud, it seemed as En joined the conversation, of her telling-off of Dr. Strauss, even though, she added, Strauss had been a 'right cobber' for patching her up. By the time En had charted the route on her Pip-boy, Sunny came down the stairs, without her crutches, walking on what looked to be sore but functional legs.

"Didn't realize it was casual Friday," she said sourly, looking at Watkins' outfit.

"Hey, I'm not dragging myself around in that smelly hot recon armour today?" Watkins shot back. "It's not that long a walk and I'm sure we'll be fine?"

For knowing nothing about the outside world, Watkins sure was pretty confident that nothing would happen. Meyers spoke En's thoughts out loud by saying, "Bet there's a bruise on your butt that says otherwise."

Watkins gave a sheepish grin and said, "That was just poor rock climbing skills?"

"Well," Meyers said, "Let's keep your butt free from bruises today, shall we?"

Watkins stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Mm. I'll put an ad out for butt-bodyguards?"

Sunny shot En an irritated look.

"C'mon, jillaroo, let's go find that mongrel in his checkered suit."

The walk was long, but rather uneventful. They'd left around noon, however, with all the preparations and things, and so by the time they reached an intersection, twilight had already set in. During the walk, Meyers had talked to En about books, and then to Sunny and Ringo, Sunny and Ringo had talked to each other and later Meyers, Melissa had been walking pretty much quietly, and Leza had been chattering to just about everyone, flitting from conversation to conversation. She wasn't completely oblivious, though, because she mostly steered clear of Sunny.

"Which way, jillaroo?" Melissa asked as they reached the intersection. The i88 expressway divided into two at this point, one end veering off to the East, the other taking a path between two mountains to the West, and disappearing into the darkening landscape.

"Uh… left, I think." Her pip-boy had been acting funny for the last hour, and then it had winked out entirely, probably one of the wires losing contact, or the battery dying. Pip-boys used regular old energy cells, so they were cheap and easy to replace. She could even leech one off Leza if she wanted to, but the poor thing probably wouldn't understand the logic behind it. She imagined her asking, confused, how it came that her pip-boy could work on ammunition. She knew a bit about programming, apparently, but that was most likely because it had been literally hammered into her head.

So she was operating on purely the memory of her pip-boy map, and she remembered it saying left at the intersection… right? Yeah, left, it had to have been left. Yep. Left. Definitely.

"You sure, jillaroo?" Melissa asked, looking back and forth between both sides of the highway with its shattered concrete and rusted car corpses. Melissa herself didn't look much more alive than the road, the left side of her face black and swollen, the bruise so big even the splint couldn't cover it. She looked worn and tired, but En reasoned that if she wanted to come along, it'd be wrong to stop her. "Last time I was here, I remember Boulder being more to the East."

"Mmno, no, I'm pretty sure it was left now."

Melissa smiled mysteriously despite her pain. "Alright, jillaroo, whatever you say."

They walked on, the night sky darkening even further, until the sun was completely gone and all they could see in the sky were the stars. Some of those stars, however, looked suspiciously close to the ground, a cluster of lights at the side of the road. See? En had been right, there was Boulder City. She didn't miss the chance to point it out. "Looks like I win, Melissa, look at that."

Melissa only said a sarcastic, "Ace, jillaroo." But was she being snide because she couldn't bear losing, or because she knew more than En did. Nah, she was probably just a sore loser.

"Good thing we made it," Watkins remarked. "My feet are aching?"

"I'm pretty sure", Sunny couldn't resist, "that you don't know _real_ leg pain."

Watkins had nothing to say to that.

The lights came closer and became a small settlement. Maybe Boulder City was just a collection of shacks, but it still seemed awfully small to be called 'city'. The bunch of shacks was positioned right in front of a bridge that spanned over another highway. It was a small group of sad-looking fibre-cement plates, wooden walls hammered into rickety supports, and the occasional stripped caravan.

"Boulder City, right jillaroo?"

"Uh… yeah, I think so." She most certainly didn't think so.

"This is the 188 trading post, isn't it?" Sunny asked warily.

"Yep," Melissa proclaimed. "The same. Of course, jillaroo here knew better, right?"

En stopped and put her hands in her sides. "Hey, Melissa, I stood by what I thought instead of letting someone make me second-guess myself. You should be proud of me."

With a feeble smile, Melissa said, "I am, doll. Don't worry."

"Still," Meyers grunted. "You two ladies made us walk all the way to the wrong place just because you wanted to feel smug about yourselves. Good job."

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Thanks for that."

Ringo put his arm around her and said, "Well, we can take a breather at the trading post and then turn around. We've only lost half an hour or something. No disaster."

"Not if your legs are healthy."

Ringo only kissed her on the top of the head in response.

"Think they've got beer there?" Leza asked, sounding eager. "I'd really love to try some?"

"You've never had beer?" En and Ringo asked simultaneously.

"Well, no. Brotherhood isn't too keen on alcohol? Bunch of old bores." She kicked a pebble away to reinforce her point.

They'd reached the trading post, and one of the places clearly served as some sort of picnic place or open-air bar, or whatever-the-fuck, with tables and benches set in a small courtyard and a crooked shack that seemed to serve as a counter to order drinks. Two people sat at the counter, one with a leather jacket that had a back patch saying "GUN RUNNERS", and a bored-looking young woman with a face dirty with oil smears stood behind it, waiting for the two barflies to empty their glasses so she could refill them.

Sunny let out a loud 'Oof' as she sat down and rubbed her legs, gently so as not to hurt them further, but hard enough to let the blood flow through. Cheyenne followed her movements with a curious look. Ringo sat down beside her, and Melissa next to him, touching her face and wincing. En, Leza and Meyers took the opposite bench. It was like a big family picnic.

"Oh boy," the young woman called, scooting out from behind the counter. "Am I glad to see some people here! What'll it be, boredom-relievers?"

"Beer, please!" Leza rapped, before anyone else could speak.

"Oh… kay," the bartender said, surprised but amused, jotting down the order on an old note pad.

Melissa raised a finger and said, "Yeah."

"Beer for me too," Ringo said, more calmly, with Sunny echoing, "Yep, me too. And can we get a bowl of water for the dog?"

"Absolutely."

"Got any scotch?" Meyers asked, clearly not expecting a positive response. And it was with a smile that the young woman proved him wrong, "Yes sir, second-rate rotgut, but better than nothing."

"Coke please," En asked, completing the drinks order. "And um… if you have anything to eat?"

The young woman with the faded red STP-baseball cap sucked on the end of her pencil and said, "Well, kitchen's not open after seven, but I can deep fry you some brahmin mincemeat sausages if you like?"

"Sure, yeah, anything that can fill our stomachs."

Still with the end of the pencil in her mouth, the bar tending girl smiled, said, "You got it," and whirled around, walking back to the bar.

"How's your face, Melissa?" Watkins asked.

"Eh," Melissa merely said, "I try not to think about it." But she still took the painkiller bottle out of her vest pocket and shook two into her hands. "That'll keep me for a bit." En thought briefly of asking Melissa for one too, to quiet her pounding head, but Melissa needed them harder than she did.

The bar tending girl came back with a platter set with four beers, a coke, a glass of scotch, and a ceramic bowl. "Beer, beer, beer, beer, a coke, and a scotch. Water for the dog."

"Thanks," All six of them said simultaneously.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Watkins asked.

"Uh, sure, if by bathroom you mean a nice spot of the Wastes."

Leza made a face, but got up and trudged out of the camp.

"Sausages will be around in a minute, fryer has to warm up." With that, she went back to the bar. At the same time, a female figure dressed in a robe, her head covered with a frayed dark green scarf, went to sit at the bar, motioning for the bar tending girl to bring her a drink.

En uncapped her coke bottle (she always saw it as the sign of a friendly bar when they let you uncap your own bottles instead of pocketing the cap themselves) and took a drink. Ooh, nice, refrigerated! She closed her eyes and let a quiet burp escape her throat.

Melissa's beer was drained in a series of quick gulps. She simply said, "More," and got up, walking to the bar to order a refill. As she asked for another beer, the woman in the robe and scarf turned to her and asked a question, Melissa replying with a smile, motioning at the splint on her face. The bartender set the beer on the counter, but Melissa didn't bring it back, staying at the counter instead.

"A moment of rest," Meyers mused, holding up his glass of scotch and swirling it in his glass, looking at the colour. Scotch had a beautiful colour and it looked incredibly tasteful, but En knew from smelling it that it tasted awful. Meyers didn't seem to think so, however, sipping the glass and closing his eyes. "Mm. Not bad."

Ringo held out his hand. "Can I?"

With a grin, Meyers handed him the glass. "Not too much, or you're ordering two new ones."

Ringo sampled the whiskey too, and nodded in approval. "I've had worse." Then he reached into his pack and took out his bag of weed. "Anyone want some?"

En passed, Meyers said he preferred good old alcohol, but Sunny shrugged and said, "Why not, help me unwind a bit."

Raising his voice, Ringo held up the weed bag and called, "Melissa?"

She'd been chatting away with the woman at the bar, but she turned her head and said, "Only if it's quality, bucko."

"It's that or nothing."

With a grin, Melissa said, "Alright, roll me one."

Hunched over the joint he was rolling, Ringo asked En, "Think Miss Like-oh-my-God will want some?"

En shrugged. "Ask her when she gets back."

"Mm." He finished rolling the first joint, mixing weed with tobacco as if he'd done it a thousand times before. "Melissa?"

En saw Melissa excuse herself to her chatting partner, and she came to the table to pick up her spliff. "Thanks mate." Then she went back to the bar.

Watkins came back and sat down at the bench, her back to the bar. "Melissa gone?"

As Ringo rolled the second joint, he said, "She's chatting at the bar. Want one?"

Watkins briefly turned her head, turned back to the others, then checked, and turned her head to the bar again. She sat briefly looking at the backs of Melissa and the other woman, and then said, "Hm," before focusing her attention back on her company, the lock of yellow hair in front of her eye whirling as she turned her head back to the others. "I'm sorry, what'd you say?"

"Want a joint?" Sunny asked curtly.

Leza hadn't noticed, or decided to ignore, Sunny's tone. "Ummmm… I've never tried one, so I'll just take a toke from one of you guys' if that's alright?"

Ringo shrugged. "Sure," passing the second to Sunny and proceeding to roll the third.

Sunny lit up, took a long drag, and went, "Ahhh, you know, I don't like this stuff, but it can feel damn good sometimes."

In the meantime, the bar tender had made the sausages, setting them down on the table with a quiet, "Enjoy."

Ringo licked the paper of the third joint to make it stick and said, "Don't I know it." He lit his joint and inhaled the smoke, the tip of the blunt lighting up as he sucked in air. The talking resumed, En just enjoying the voices, the sweet taste of the coke, and the cool night air.

En took a look back at the robed girl at the bar, and then saw Leza taking a swill of her beer and grimacing. "I'd imagined this to taste entirely differently?"

"Want some coke to chase it down?" En offered.

"No, I'm cool, thanks?" Then she held her hand out to Ringo and ask, "Can I have a try?"

Before Ringo could react, Sunny stuck out her joint and said, "Here."

Watkins had clearly misinterpreted Sunny's haste. "Thanks, Sunny! So I just inhale?"

Ringo nodded.

Predictably, Leza took a drag and burst into a coughing fit, flapping her free hand at her face. "Awgh, this isn't my thing." She handed the joint back to Ringo.

"Oi, jillaroo?" Melissa's quiet voice suddenly came from beside En. She'd briefly left the bar and had stuck her face next to En's, to talk in her ear.

"Mm?"

"Can we um… would it be too much to ask if we holed up here for the night?"

En turned to Melissa. "Uh… why?"

Melissa cleared her throat into her fist. "I'd be a bit sad if I had to go. Would like to get to know that girl better."

Errr, what? "Errr, what?"

"Yeah," Melissa said, almost sounding apologetic. "I know it'd be more lost time, but it's night, nothing to do in Boulder City yet anyway, and this girl and I are really hittin' it off, yeah?"

"Hitting it off?" Okay, this was confusing.

Melissa sighed and rolled her eyes. "Y'know, sparks leapin', eyes lockin', all that. We're really clickin'."

"Clicking, as in, wanting to get into each other's pants?"

Melissa briefly looked back at the girl at the bar. "Robe in her case, but yeah, I suppose why not?"

What the Hell? "But, but… I thought you said you weren't gay?"

"I'm not," Melissa retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I just think gender's possibly the most irrelevant criterion when it comes to decidin' who you wanna root with."

En really needed a second to wrap her aching head around that one. "So you're not a lesbian, but you don't mind leaping into bed with a woman?"

Melissa shrugged. "Or a man. It's all about personality and having that undefined somethin' that makes me want to jump your bones. So, can we stay?" With a little grin, she said, "Remember all the ace things I've done for you."

It'd mean more wasted time, but as Melissa had said, there wasn't really much to see in Boulder City anyway, probably, and everyone was tired, and in some cases, stoned. Not like they'd make anymore meaningful progress that day. The prospect of having to wait 'til morning wasn't exactly pleasant, but as En looked at Melissa's eager face, half of it darkened by a dark purple bruise, and the burns in her neck still standing out in bright pink, she thought, what the Hell. "Alright, Melissa. We'll stay here."

Melissa punched her shoulder with a broad grin. "Beaut, jillaroo! Your blood's worth bottlin'. I'll hit the turps with my new mate now!"

"Enjoy hitting the… um, whatever turps are. Take a second to introduce your friend to us later, okay?"

Melissa flashed another grin and went back to the bar.

"We're stayin', aren't we?" Meyers asked En with a twinkle in his eyes.

En briefly looked back at Melissa and her new friend, and realized she didn't mind spending the evening here one bit. "Yeah, looks like we are."

"So our amazon's not averse to women, huh?" He downed the last of his scotch and clapped the glass on the table. "Guess that wasn't a surprise. I mean, lookin' at her and all."

En could only frown and say, "She confuses me sometimes."

"As do all people, little lady. And the ones that can confuse you the most are usually the ones you thought you knew best. I remember back up north, I'd found myself a nice lady, bright, cheery, well educated. Had a clean house, spoke with two words, well groomed and bathed, you know?"

En wasn't all that interested in the story, but she said, "M-hm" nonetheless.

"Really thought I'd hooked myself a right and proper missus. Turns out," Meyers leaned closer to her and said quietly, "the first time we did the horizontal tango, she was into this nasty kind of choking sex, where she wanted to get throttled to within an inch of her life and – "

"Alright, alright," En stopped him. "I get it."

Meyers lifted his glass and inspected it to see if maybe there wasn't a little bit left. "Just sayin', people can be unpredictable."

Melissa came to stand at the table, with her robed friend. The girl standing next to her was pretty, with a Hispanic look. The old frayed scarf she had on her head didn't do her much justice, but the bright, cheery, mischievous eyes under them made En realize immediately why Melissa had been so taken with her. "Since jillaroo here asked me, I'll just briefly introduce a new friend I just made."

"No need for introductions," Watkins said coldly. And then, with a tone that almost had icicles hanging from it, she said, "Hello, _Veronica_."

"Watkins?" The robed girl blinked nonplussed, and then asked Melissa, "You're travelling with _Watkins_?"

Melissa shrugged and said, "Well, yeah. Picked her up a few days ago."

"That's... a bit of a surprise."

Watkins scratched the wood of the picnic table with a bottle cap. "What's _not_ a surprise is seeing you here on your own, looking like a vagabond?"

The woman called Veronica shrugged. "I was planning on keeping this civil, but as for vagabonds, I look like one, you have the manners of one."

"This gonna be good," Meyers said quietly, leaning over to En.

"So, _Veronica_, still have your licker's licence?" Watkins asked with a cruel edge.

"Oi!" Melissa interrupted the exchange. "Blondie, that your way of treatin' people I introduce? Whatever beef you've got, stow it, yeah?"

Watkins crossed her arms and glared. "She started it."

"Leza," En reprimanded. "Come on. I don't know where you know each other from, but we can have a civilized discussion, at least?"

"_Civilized_ might be a bit much to ask," Sunny said raucously.

"_Hey_!_"_

"Whoa," Ringo said, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke. "That was uncalled for, Sunny. Chill."

Sunny seemed content with looking out at the trading post and feeling victorious.

"Uh, guys," the girl Melissa had hooked up with said, "I didn't come here to cause trouble. Watkins and I... well, we have a history, but she's part of your group and I don't want to drive a wedge between anyone."

"Not your fault, Veronica," Melissa said, with a glare at the sulking Watkins. "Come on, let's just have a drink. Jillaroo, care to join us for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure," En said, and saw the opportunity to brighten the atmosphere a little. "But only if you promise I won't get sandwiched between you two in a sweaty lesbian sex fest."

Completely sincerely, Melissa said, "Guaranteed, jillaroo."

"I'll be right back," she told the others, nabbing her mincemeat sausage. Only Ringo and Meyers responded with a nod.

"Coke?" Veronica asked. "It's on me."

"Sure."

"Michelle? A coke for my friend, please?"

The young woman behind the bar nodded and put a coke on the bar, sliding it down the counter where the robed woman caught it. "Thanks, sweetie." Veronica passed En the coke and sat down on a bar stool. "Hey, I don't mean to talk behind people's backs, but you might be wise not to travel with Watkins anymore."

"If you don't mean to talk behind people's backs," En said gently. "Don't." People who said that usually meant well, but they always ended up doing exactly what they said they weren't going to do.

She spread her hands. "Fair enough. So, Melissa told me a bit about why you're all on the road. Who the Hell would shoot a nice girl like you?"

"I know, right? I'm thinking it was because of the package I carried, but why shoot me when he's already got it?"

"Mm." the woman frowned in thought, and as she did so, a short lock of dark brown hair peeked out from underneath her hood. "That is strange. No witnesses, probably."

"That would make sense, if I'd seen him before he shot me. But they jumped me from behind, threw a bag over my head, stole my package, and then took the bag off to shoot me."

Veronica cocked her head. "Maybe they thought you'd seen them?"

"No," Melissa said curtly. "They didn't."

En decided not to tell the woman about Melissa's involvement. She'd paid for it, and hey, she deserved a little friendship after all she'd done. "Yeah, I told Melissa already. I didn't see them."

"Very strange. Well, I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you do, call me if you need someone to beat the stuffing out of him. I'm good at punching people."

En chuckled. "I will. So what brings you here?"

"Adventure? Excitement?" Melissa added to the question.

"A Scribe craves not these things," the girl said. "But yeah, I guess that's about it. I can't help myself. So many great things in the world to discover. The Brotherhood could learn a lot from the outside world if only they came out of their bunkers."

"Ah," En realized. "You're Brotherhood. That's where..." she gestured toward the table.

"Where I know tits-and-no-brains from, yeah."

En realized she had intended not to give the woman the occasion to talk behind Melissa's back, no matter how nice she was, but curiosity baited the cat. "She seems nice enough though?"

Veronica shrugged. "Oh, she is. To your face." She sighed and said, "Look, I'm not going to badmouth her, but just be careful, okay? Don't let her get too close too soon."

En didn't know why, but she felt like this woman was sincere and not just trying to make Watkins look bad. "Alright. I'll be careful."

"Enough gossip, yeah?" Melissa interrupted, slightly irritated. "She's a bit of an airhead, but she hasn't done us any wrong yet. Until she does, no point assumin' she will."

"Fair enough," the hooded woman said. "So anyway, yeah, I'm just looking for adventure... and excitement." She exchanged a brief, telling glance with Melissa, who returned it just as mischievously. "And I'm kinda waiting for someone to come get me out of here."

Before En could react, Melissa said, "Can travel with us?"

Veronica smiled and looked down. "Thanks, but... not with _her_. Not to be a baby, but putting the two of us together could only mean trouble."

Again, Melissa was faster than En, probably intentionally. "I'm sure we could make it work?"

She shook her head, and a deep sadness came over her. "I'm sorry, but I'll never forgive her for what she did. And that's all I want to say about it," she added gently, making it clear she didn't want to explain.

"Well," Melissa said, leaning forward on her bar stool, "when I'm done helpin' jillaroo here, I'll come find you."

"We'll see. For now, let's just have a fun evening together."

That was En's cue to leave. She got up from her bar stool. "Pleasure meeting you, miss Veronica, take care of Melissa here, she's a bit beat up."

"Awww," the other said. "Don't worry, I'll be good."

En left them to talk, and flirt probably, and went back to sit with the others.

"So?" Watkins asked, looking slightly unstable in her seat. "Bet she told you all sorts of nastiness about me huh?"

En shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just that you don't get along."

"Tch," Leza blew, downing the shot of whiskey she'd apparently ordered while En was gone. Two more empty glasses stood beside it. "She just hates me because I'm not as stuck-up as she is." There was a bit of a slur in her speech.

"How much has she had?" En asked, directing her question to Ringo right away, still seeing him as the most responsible one.

With a shrug, Ringo said, "Three, plus Meyers'. He'll be quite peeved when he comes back from the sanitary installations." By that he meant any rock to hide behind.

"And you didn't stop her?"

"She's old enough, miss En."

Leza stood up and waddled towards the bar, holding up two fingers. Melissa and Veronica had apparently taken a walk or whatever it was they had gone off to do. With a grin, the girl with the cap poured two more shots, Leza knocking one back straight away and taking the other back to the table. "Rin-gohhhhhh," she called. "Lemme have a toke?"

Unconcerned, Ringo held out the last remains of his joint. "Take it easy, blondie."

Watkins took the joint, put it in her mouth and inhaled deep, bursting into a coughing fit so hard it made the spliff fly from her mouth, the red glowing tip making a bright arc against the night sky and landing on the table, right in front of a sour-faced Sunny. Oblivious, Watkins knocked back the other shot, then took Ringo's beer and gulped down half of it, Ringo simply not giving a shit.

"Hey, Leza," En said. "Don't you think it's time to switch to soda?"

Watkins frowned and jabbed a finger at her. "You're awesome, Ennie, but," a surprise burp, "you're younger than me an' I know what I'm doin'." She sat down, wobbled back and forth, then shouted, "VE-_RON-_I-CAAAAH! … dives for CLAMS... at," burp, "ME-_LIS-_SA BAYYYYY!"

Despite the awful scene she was making, and the immense embarrassment she was being, En couldn't suppress a grin. "Leza, come on, sit down." She took Watkins by the hem of her jeans and pulled her back down.

When Watkins turned to her, even though she couldn't see her other eye, hidden behind the yellow lock of hair, but En knew she was looking completely cross-eyed. "_EN_-NIE is my FRIEND! And _SUN_-NIE and _RIN_-GO!" She let out another burp, surprised with what apparently came up with it and required a swallow to get back down. "And the uh... old guy who STARES at my _TITS_!" She was shouting at an uncomfortable volume now, the girl behind the bar grinning and shaking her head and the few remaining travellers at the trading post looking annoyed at the loud drunk chick. Only Cheyenne didn't care, lying at Sunny's feet with her eyes closed.

Watkins leaned over the table, and with a cross-eyed frown, said, "You're my friend, right Sunny?"

"Uh..."

With a finger pointed at Sunny, she slurred, "You don't think I wanna steal your guy, do you?"

Sunny was unimpressed. "Do you?"

"_No_," Watkins called, sweeping her arm, as if Sunny had just said the stupidest thing in the world. "You're my _friend,_ Sunny! You're all my _friends_!"

In response, Sunny simply extended her hand and pulled up the neck of Watkins' shirt. "Your cleavage needs some modesty."

"Thanks Sunny," Watkins slurred. "You're a true friend." Then she crossed her arms on the table, lowered her head, and closed her eyes.

Ringo lit a cigarette, a normal one this time, and shook his head. "Talk about finding your own limit."

En sat looking concerned at the comatose Watkins. "Think she'll be alright?"

"She'll be fine," Sunny said. "Just carry her to one of these shacks, chuck her in and let her sleep it off. I can't carry her though, with my legs. And no, Ringo, you don't get to help."

Ringo spread his hands as if to say, _I didn't say anything_.

"Yeah, I'm not letting Meyers get his hands on her while she's in this state either," En said, standing up and hooking her hands under Watkins' armpits. "Let's just call it a night."

At that moment, speak of the Devil, Meyers came back, buckling his belt. "Now that was a mean one. Sorry it took so long." Then his eyes fell on Watkins. "Oh my, looks like she's down for the count."

"Uh huh." En gritted her teeth and lifted Watkins up. Thankfully, she was still coherent enough to provide _some_ assistance, though her knees buckled every two seconds. "Come on, Leza, time for bed." Still holding the half-conscious Watkins up under her armpits, En called to the bartender, "How much for a room?"

The girl with the cap made a throw-away gesture. "For all the caps you spent on booze, they're free. Plenty of empty shacks here anyway. Just chuck her into one."

"Yeah, that's what I intended," En said with a grunt as she struggled to keep her balance, with the limp Watkins hanging from her shoulder. She staggered over to the first shack she saw, kicked the door open and was greeted by two voices, a male and a female, in the darkness shouting, "HEY!"

"Oops, sorry." She pulled the door closed again, Watkins only doing a minimum effort to support herself. Damn, she was heavy. And En's head _ached_. "Come on, Leza work with me here."

Watkins made a token effort, resulting only in a tear in her jeans at the thigh where the fabric hooked onto the screwdriver hanging from En's tool belt. "I'm… guh… gonna be sick."

"Aw, shit," En hissed, turning Watkins away from her and toward the shack wall just in time to avoid the spray of projectile vomit that flew from her mouth, spattering against the wall in a cone of browns and yellows. "Le_za_."

"It just… was there, all of a sudden," Watkins croaked, her head hanging forward. None of the puke had gotten in her hair, thankfully. En found herself having more and more trouble being patient with this half-comatose idiot. She was the youngest of the lot and felt like she was the one doing the damn babysitting. Grunting again, she dragged Watkins to the next shack and kicked the door open as she'd done last time. She half-dreaded to stumble upon Melissa and that Veronica chick, their limbs tangled in the throes of ecstasy or whatever the fuck, but this one was empty. Breathing a laboured sigh of relief, she let Watkins fall on the closest mattress she saw, sending her down like a sack of grain. "There, now sleep."

Watkins only responded with an inarticulate groan before En closed the door on her and went to find herself a shack.


	26. Silence Before the Storm

**.**

**TWENTY-SIX**

**188 Trading Post**

**July 5th**

**Morning**

_so don't worry, I'm alright, I just need to do some things before I come back. Hope you're all doing well back in N.A., tell Allison I said 'hi', and love you lots!_

_En_

"There," En said to herself, pushing the cap back onto the ball point she'd used to write her letter with. She'd been out in the Mojave for a while now, and even though her folks knew she could take care of herself, and that a delay of a few days wasn't that big a deal, it was high time she kept them a bit updated on what had happened. She'd left out the shooting and the head trauma (they'd be able to see that for themselves when they returned), but she did mention Sunny, Ringo, Melissa (with a somewhat different explanation for her presence), Meyers and Leza. She'd understated Meyers' age somewhat, to stop her parents from thinking she was on the road with some creepy old guy (well, she was, but he wasn't creepy towards _her_), and in general she'd painted the most favourable picture of her companions that she could. She still hoped that Sunny and Ringo at least came back to New Arroyo with her, at least if Sunny could stop being so damn needy all the time.

The sun had come up about an hour ago, when she'd started writing, and during that hour, the morning chill had turned into warmth, and then heat, and the single crumpled-up ball of paper at her feet had turned into a pile. She never really had been good at writing the right words on the first go. Her back hurts from sitting on the sidewalk, bent over her paper, but that was no biggie. At least the pain in her head was tolerable. There'd been another episode, but no one had seen it, thankfully. Early in the morning when she'd just started writing. She'd had to take a stick of gum to get the taste of bile out of her mouth.

"Hey. Writing a book?"

The voice that came from behind her belonged to the woman Melissa had, in her own words 'hit it off with', the Hispanic looking girl with the robe and the scarf over her hair. Veronica. She sat down next to En, holding a water bottle. "Is it about ninja pirate zombie vampires?"

"No, no, just letting my parents know I'm alright," En said. "You know, so they don't get worried."

"Right." She looked off into the distance and took a swill from her water bottle. "Parents, huh? Do they actually let you scoot around the Wastes all on your own?"

En shrugged. "Sure. They know I'm responsible."

"Responsible enough to get yourself shot," Veronica said, grinning.

"Hey, that was outside of my own will. Melissa not awake yet?"

Veronica held out her water bottle to En, who politely declined. As she did so, she hoped the woman didn't think En said no because she was afraid of catching the gay disease. "No, she's awake but dead tired, so she's gonna rest some more." Veronica took a breath. "The wounds on her are pretty brutal. Looks like she danced with an acid-covered epileptic deathclaw."

"Yeah," En said quietly. "I know."

"Anyway, she's decided to stay and rest a bit." With a lopsided grin, she added, "we didn't get much sleep tonight."

"I'll bet. So are you two... serious?"

Veronica threw her head back and laughed. "Serious? What ever gave you _that_ idea?"

Wait, what? "Uh... when you um, have sex with someone, doesn't that mean you're like, together and stuff?"

She laughed again. "It does you a lot of credit that you think that way, but no, it was fun for a night, but no strings attached."

What, so she'd just used Melissa as a temporary lust-slaker? That would be pretty heartless. "Veronica… Melissa's my friend and I don't like it when people take advantage of my friends?"

She smiled and put her hand on top of En's. "That's real nice of you, sweetie, but don't worry, no one's taking advantage. Melissa feels the same way."

Huh. Well, that was that, then. "So you're not in love?"

She shrugged and looked out at the Wastes. "Nope, just both in need of some human warmth. I prefer just having fun, no strings attached. Melissa's great, but we're not in love."

For some reason En had the desire to ask, "Ever _been_ in love?"

Veronica grinned at her. "Ever been nosy?"

"_All_ the time."

A slight sadness stole over her, a sudden, jarring contrast with her usual playful smile and mischievous eyes. "I was once, but that's a long story. Let's just say it's something I'll never have again, and something I can't ever replace."

"I'd like to listen if you'd like to talk?"

"I'm sure you can put the pieces of the puzzle together yourself. I'm homosexual, and the Brotherhood and homosexuality don't mix well. When that…" a fierce tension came around her mouth and she stopped herself, closed her eyes for a second and rephrased, "When they found out about me and Christine, Elder Elijah had me… _promoted_ to scout, sending me out of the bunker. It was supposedly a reassignment, but in reality it was purely and simply punishment."

En knew the Brotherhood were stuck-up, but 'promoting' someone away for being gay? She'd never imagined that. "So is the Brotherhood that homophobic?" The trading post had been quiet up 'til now, but a few traders emerged from their shacks and slowly shuffled to the picnic tables for breakfast. The girl who'd tended bar yesterday evening came out of her shack moments later, looking cheerful as she put her STP-cap on.

Veronica tossed her empty water bottle away. "Oh no, it wasn't homophobia or bigotry, it was simply… the Brotherhood are small in number, and procreation is essential. Gays and lesbians make for poor birth rates."

"Wow. What happened to uh…"

"Christine? Last I heard, she was whisked away to the CoS, that's the Circle of Steel, a subgroup of which I can't tell you any more. But she could have gone anywhere from there. Wherever it was, it was away from me, that much is certain."

"That sucks. You must hate the Brotherhood."

"No, no!" she said hastily. "Don't get me wrong, I love the Brotherhood, it's in my blood and always will be. It's just that…" she thought for a moment. "Just because I love them, doesn't mean some of them aren't assholes."

"I'm… sorry to hear that."

Veronica looked like she was tempted to say something as she looked back at the shacks where En's group slept in, but then apparently decided otherwise. "It's alright. You?"

"Me what?"

"Ever been in love?"

She hugged her knees and looked up at the sky. "I am, kinda. Someone back home. Doesn't matter though, he's probably hooked up with someone else about now."

Veronica chuckled and rose. "Well, if you need some rival's nose broken, let me know. I'm gonna score some breakfast-to-go and then I need to go on a scavenging run. Tell Melissa I had a great time, will you?"

"What, you're not going to say goodbye?"

She looked at the shack she'd shared with Melissa and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her robe. "Nope, not a fan of goodbyes. See you around some time?"

En got up too, brushing the dust off the back of her pants. "Yep. Take care, okay?"

"I will. You too."

"M-hm."

With that, the woman walked off toward the bar, took a lunch box the cap-girl placed on the bar for her, raised her hand at En briefly, and disappeared between the shacks.

Strange woman.

Breakfast sounded like a great idea, but they were completely out of caps. Watkins had blown them all on booze. En grinned to herself as she thought of the hangover the silly blonde would doubtless be having right now, probably even feeling it in her sleep. Served her right for boozing like a madwoman yesterday.

She heard a clap and saw Meyers coming towards her, wringing his hands. "Mornin', little lady. I trust you've already ordered an extra-large breakfast."

"If only," En said. "We're shit outta caps."

Meyers harrumphed in the direction of Watkins' place of residence. "Kids these days."

"I'm more a kid than she is," En echoed what Sunny had said to her the day before yesterday while she dropped the letter to her folks in the Mojave Express drop box.

"Welp," Meyers said, his good cheer unflagging despite the lack of breakfast, "I'll have to nourish the mental sheriff then." With that, he went back to his shack, came out with a book, and sat down in the hot morning sun.

Sunny and Ringo were next to emerge, followed by a casual-acting Melissa who couldn't hide the stars in her eyes entirely, and finally Watkins, her face even more pale than usual and her eyes bloodshot, holding her head.

After a brief breakfast consisting of the last of Ringo's coffee and many remarks with double meanings at Melissa's address, they set out for Boulder City, and hopefully, towards the answers En had waited so long for. Part of her was eager to seek out the confrontation, but she knew expeditions like those rarely had a perfect conclusion.

Watkins spent the first half hour of the walk complaining, but as she sweated out her hangover, she gradually reverted to her old self. Melissa, despite her vandalised face, walked with a smile on her face, answering questions absently, lost in what must be fond memories of her night with Veronica. Sunny and Ringo kept to themselves as always, Cheyenne trotting beside them, and Meyers was honest to God reading a book as he walked. What a maniac.

"That looks like Boulder City," Ringo pointed out as Sunny squinted at the collection of ruined houses ahead. Didn't look like the kind of thing a guy with a suit like Benny's would hole up in for long. En felt her heart sink as she realized he'd probably be long gone already. Because Boulder City looked like nothing more than a ghost town, good enough for the occasional raider passing through, or for a bum to sit and drink his booze for a day, but nothing more.

Sunny seemed to be thinking the same thing En was. "I suppose we'll have to look for clues instead of hoping we'll run into your buddy, huh?"

En was determined not to let it ruin her good cheer. "He might be there, spending his days laughing at the beggars."

"Well, we'll see when we get there," Ringo merely said. "NCR did a number on this city when they fought off the Legion in the battle of Hoover Dam."

So that was what had turned this town into nothing more than a ruin. "How'd that happen?"

"NCR and the Legion both want control over Hoover Dam," Ringo explained. "It's obvious why, anyone who holds the Dam can power half the Wastes. The Legion outnumbered the NCR troops, so NCR command came up with a plan."

"Because that's what NCR boys do," Melissa said bitterly, her memories of last night suddenly far away. "Make plans and ignore the collateral damage."

En winced when she anticipated Ringo fulminating at Melissa again, but to her surprise he merely sighed and said, "Yeah. The best laid plans and all that."

"So," Sunny asked, shifting the subject back to Boulder City, "the NCR lured the Legion here and blew the city to high heaven, didn't they?"

Ringo nodded. "Pop went the weasel. Most Legion bastards were blown to bits, the rest scattered and ran. Caesar had his second-in-command tarred, set on fire, and thrown into a ravine… or so they say. Probably just legend."

"Pretty sure it's not a legend," Meyers joined the conversation. "And if it is, it's a lively one. I heard that story all the way up to my place when I was still sheriff. Often means it actually happened."

"So, the Legion went kaboom, huh?" Watrkins said, not wanting to be left out.

"And a lot of civilians lost their homes or were blown up with them," Melissa added.

"No, Melissa," Ringo said with a glare. "They were evacuated."

A large stone monolith was the welcoming monument to Boulder City, and at its foot sat an NCR Trooper smoking a cigarette, his service rifle on the ground next to him.

"Great," Melissa muttered, stopping abruptly. "More NCR. If you wanna ask these… people for directions, you do it without me. I'll be here when you're done."

"You're not coming?" En asked.

"No." Then she asked Ringo, "Got a durry?"

With a sigh, Ringo fished the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and let her take one. "Come on, miss En. Let's go find your shooter."

"I'm staying too," Watkins said, going to stand next to Melissa. "Not that I don't wanna help and all, but NCR and Brotherhood are enemies. It's kinda high treason."

"Yeah," Meyers echoed. "I'm gonna go read my book behind that wall there." Sheepishly, he added, "Still a convicted criminal by NCR law."

"Uh… okay," was all En could say.

As they left the others behind, Melissa and Watkins remaining where they stood, and Meyers acting casual as he walked back to a concealed area, Sunny called out to them, "And no hanky panky, you two."

Watkins' face scrunched up, "Ew, no!", which prompted a laugh from Melissa.

The trooper sitting at the base of the monolith rose hastily and flicked his cigarette away. He was young, with rust-coloured hair cut in military style. On his chest was a name plate saying KOWALSKI. "Morning. You might want to turn back, people." He stooped and scratched Cheyenne under the chin, and the dog permitted herself to enjoy the attention.

"Why?" En asked.

The soldier pointed his thumb at the town centre, looking up, pinching his eyes closed against the sun. "Got a hostage situation going on. Two of our soldiers got taken and we're trying to negotiate, but so far it's with weapons drawn."

"Who's holding the hostages?" Sunny asked.

En's heart leapt as he said, "Bunch of Great Khan rabble. We caught them squatting here, wanted to take them into custody, but they snatched two of our members, and held them at gunpoint. The lieutenant doesn't want to let them leave, and the Khans won't give back our soldiers. So it's an impasse. Been going on for days now." He suddenly remembered himself and said stupidly, "I shouldn't be telling you this."

"I think we can help," Ringo said. "One of our companions is a former Great Khan. She might get these people to see reason."

"Why would you want to help? Assuming you even could?"

"These Khans have information that I desperately need," En told him. "I really need to talk to them, so if we can get them to work something out with you, so much the better right?"

"Uh… if you wanna try, you'll need to talk to the el-tee. I'm not supposed to tell you any of this, let alone encourage you."

"Alright thanks. Where's your lieutenant, trooper?" Ringo asked.

"Head straight into town, squad's camped out in front of the scene. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," En said. Then she gestured to Melissa and Watkins that they were heading into town. Melissa stamped out her cigarette and they got moving.

A squad of NCR troopers was huddled behind a waist-high wall, two of them intently observing whatever lay behind it. As En and the others approached, one of the troopers got up and hustled bent-over towards a standing soldier, only rising when he was behind suitable cover to give his report or whatever it was he had to do. They exchanged a few words, the standing trooper nodded and the other ran back to the wall. Melissa again abruptly stopped as they approached, Watkins only remembering that she had to stop too after seeing Melissa halt.

"Civilians? Stay behind cover so you don't get your faces shot off." They were more than safe on the path they were taking, but it seemed he just had to say it nonetheless.

"Uh, hi," En greeted. She was always clumsy talking to soldier types. They had these codes and formulae that she was never really comfortable using.

Ringo noticed her awkwardness and said, "Lieutenant. Private Kowalski was kind enough to inform us of your situation. Maybe we can help?"

"Help?" the lieutenant scoffed. He looked to be around forty, with a weathered face and a goatee that was atypical for NCR soldiers. Didn't soldiers always have to be clean-shaven? Then again, these men were probably far from any form of command, and what command there was had bigger fish to fry than some lieutenant's facial hair. His name plate said MONROE. "This is a military problem. No civilians. Go on, shoo."

"The manners on you," Sunny shot back. "You'd think someone who's been cowering behind a wall with his entire squad for days would welcome any help he can get."

"Cowering?" the lieutenant snapped, his upper lip curling back. "You picking a fight, _civilian_?"

Sunny seemed unimpressed and shrugged. "Just telling it like it is."

"Easy there," Ringo tried to defuse the situation. "We're all a bit high strung. Let's just talk and see what can be done."

"Why are you even interested in helping?" Monroe asked, agitated.

"Because there's something we need to know, and those Khans are the only people that can tell us," En said, hoping to calm things down a little. "They won't shoot us on sight, right? I mean, we're obviously not NCR."

Ringo nodded. "Khans are halfwits, but they won't open fire on unarmed civilians."

"Bet you don't dare say that in front of Melissa," Sunny goaded.

With a shrug, Ringo said, "She knows what I think about her little outfit."

"_Ex_-outfit," En interjected. "And anyway, that's not important right now. Thing is, mr. Monroe, we c – "

"_Lieutenant_ Monroe," the other cut her off.

"Uh… sorry. _Lieutenant_ Monroe." She took extra care to make the title sound sarcastic. "One of my friends is an ex-Khan. I think if anyone can make sure everyone leaves alive, it's her."

Monroe frowned at her, trying to think of a way to accept her help that didn't involve admitting they were getting absolutely nowhere.

"They're your troopers, Lieutenant," Ringo nudged. "I'd say their lives come before your pride?"

That did it. The Lieutenant straightened himself and stammered, "Ah, uh, well, I… of course. And where is this friend of yours?"

"Over there," En pointed out. "Waiting at a distance."

"Hmph. I'll bet. Even if she is _ex_-Khans, I don't think the hate will ever go away." En could swear Monroe's features became a little bit less hard. "But that's ancient history, I suppose."

En had heard several times about an occurrence that had taken place between the NCR and the Khans, but there had never been the opportunity to ask. "What happened between the NCR and the Khans, Lieutenant?"

Monroe lit a cigarette and took a drag. "Bitter Springs happened, sweetheart. Black page in NCR history. Something we're going to have to spend a long time to make amends for."

"I beg to differ," Ringo said flatly. "It's sad what happened, but can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs."

Monroe blew out smoke. "The omelette at Bitter Springs shouldn't have been made at all."

"Again," Ringo said, "I disagree."

"Yeah," Monroe flicked his cigarette butt away even when the cigarette was only barely smoked. "But you weren't there, were you? You were a civilian, doing civilian things. Let me tell you, Bitter Springs was a disaster because the high-ups fucked up. That simple. And as long as we keep justifying it, we'll never make good with the Khans."

"That's assuming we'd want to."

Monroe's features hardened again. "When it comes to making sure people don't shoot each other full of holes, it's something we should _always_ want." Hm, despite his abrasive demeanour when they first met, the man seemed to have his heart in the right place.

Ringo condeded, "I suppose."

Impatiently, En asked, "So what _happened_?" If anything, it'd be a good thing to know so she could understand the antagonism between Ringo and Melissa better.

"Come on," Ringo said tersely. "We don't have time for this right now, we need to make sure those Khans don't get killed." He turned away from Monroe and walked to the other troopers. "At least until they can tell us what we need to know. Go get Melissa."

"But – "

"We'll talk about this later, miss En. We have work to do."

En threw a glance at Monroe, but he only said, "He's right. Plenty of time to talk later."

Ugh. Spoilsports.

"Come on," Sunny said, putting her hand on En's shoulder. "Let's go get Melissa."

"Yeah, fine."

As they walked, Sunny told En, "Ringo's father was killed in a firefight with the Khans. Banal patrol incident. He acts like it doesn't bother him, but I think it does."

"So that's why he hates the Khans so much."

Sunny half-shrugged. "Doesn't _hate_ them per se. But he thinks they're children who need to be disciplined before innocent people get hurt."

"So what _happened_ at Bitter Springs?"

"Don't know exactly, but it set off a hatred between the Khans and the NCR that won't just go away. I'd advise against asking Ringo or Melissa though. You're bound to get a one-sided story."

"Right." She planned on asking them both. "Melissa, these NCR guys are at a stand-off with your Khan friends. And I think you can help to bring them both back alive."

"Question is, would I want to?" Melissa said flatly.

En batted her eyelashes. "Yes, because you'd be helping poor little me?"

"Wouldn't try and be seductive now we know she swings both ways, sweetie," Sunny said, a very slightly barbed edge on her voice.

Melissa gave Sunny a glare. "If it was a joke, I'm not laughin'."

"Besides," Watkins remarked, "not like there isn't a huge difference between Ennie and _Veronica_." She almost spat out the name.

"Yeah," Sunny said curtly. "Let's not go there again."

Melissa sighed wearily. "What do you need me to do, jillaroo?"

"Uh, negotiate between the two groups. They won't even listen to the NCR guys, but they'll listen to you, right?"

"Ooh," Watkins chirped. "A hostage situation, like in the movies!"

Melissa grinned and shook her head. "Moron." It was affectionate enough. Just barely, but enough.

Sunny added, "You've seen too many movies in that bunker of yours."

Leza put her hands in her sides. "Well, it _is_ exciting!"

"It is if you don't get shot," Melissa shut her up.

"Well," En said, "Being shot is exciting too. Never seen anyone get shot and consider it boring."

"You've never seen anyone get shot, period," Melissa said with a grin, even though she knew full well that En had been in several firefights. "Now go suck on your pacifier."

En punched Melissa in the shoulder, "Hey!"

Still grinning, Melissa said, "Watch the mortal injuries."

"Right. Sorry. So, you up for it? It'd mean a lot to me if you were." It was a bit manipulative to appear so needy, but they were so close, and now she simply needed Melissa's help.

Melissa had a look of doubt in her face, but she said, "Yeah, I suppose. But promise me one thing though?"

"Mm?"

Melissa took her by the sleeve and led her a ways further. Then quietly, she said, "If I do this, I want you to forget about the past. Not just forgive. Forget."

En briefly had the urge to say that she'd never forget the pain in her head either, but she supposed it'd be more constructive to placate Melissa. After all, she'd done enough to make up for what she'd done, and nothing she could do could take back the headaches and dizziness, but En knew that if she could, she'd make it go away. So, fine. "Okay. I promise."

"Not just forgive, right? Forget?"

En nodded. "Yes."

"Oh, one more promise."

This time she couldn't resist a faint roll of her eyes. She wasn't even aware that she did it. "Yes?"

"We're close to Vegas. If we find our shooter here, or close by, we're going to get our hands on as many caps as possible, and then we're goin' to Vegas. You, me, and anyone else who's up for it. Yeah?"

That did make her chuckle. "Alright, promised!" Her parents could wait an extra day, especially now they'd get a letter saying she was alright. And a night on the town sure sounded appealing. Now that she was so close to Vegas, might as well go and see what it was like.

Melissa clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll hold you to that!"

"But only if the others come too," she said with a laugh.

"Of course they will. They'd have to be absolute bores not to."

"Come on, let's go see who shot me."

Sunny had apparently said something hilarious while Melissa and En had been talking, because Watkins stood snickering, her hand over her mouth and slightly doubled over. Sunny herself was grinning at Leza's mirth. When they reached the others, Watkins lost it and began howling with laughter, same way she had when they'd rescued her from the radscorpions.

"Looks like you're having fun."

"I told a joke," Sunny said sheepishly.

"Tell, tell!"

Sunny's grin widened. "Okay… when is it okay to spit a Mexican woman in the face?"

En blinked. "Uh… I don't know?"

"If her moustache is on fire."

This sent Leza into a fresh laughing fit as she threw her head back and shrieked it out.

"Geez, Sunny, that was awful," En said, but she grinned nonetheless.

"I know," Sunny said, laughing. "But I can make those jokes 'cause I'm Mexican myself."

"Pft," Melissa scoffed. "I can make Mexican jokes too. How does a Mexican woman fight crime?"

Leza hiccupped with laughter, but apart from that, everyone else waited for the answer.

"By gettin' an abortion."

Fresh laughter from Watkins, and Sunny laughed too, despite the nature of the joke.

"Just to make it even, I got a Maori joke too, just so we can all be self-disparagin'," Melissa said. "Why don't Maori kids ever play in a sandbox?"

"Go on?"

"Because the cats keep tryin' to bury 'em."

There was a new round of laughter, interrupted by Ringo's loud, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Have the ladies finished guffawing?

"Yeah, sorry, we're coming."

Leza was still snickering when Melissa and En walked back to Ringo.

"You're comin' with me though, jillaroo," Melissa told En out of the corner of her mouth.

"Uh… sure."

"They're holed up on the other side of the courtyard," Ringo explained. "Got the hostages clearly visible at the windows, there. Using them as human shields. Cowards."

Melissa ignored the insult. "Nice open space we gotta cross to get to the building. Let's hope they recognize me." Indeed, the courtyard itself was a slightly depressed open space laid with flagstones. The house itself was a hacienda-like construction of orange bricks, half shot to bits by the explosions that had occurred. Only one of the ceramic pots stood, the plant in it withered and brown. An NCR trooper lay dead in a pool of dried blood after making it about a quarter of the way. Looks like they'd already tried a rescue attempt.

"We'll get shot full of holes otherwise," En said, her stomach clenching. Crossing that open space looked scary.

"We?" Ringo asked. "You're taking her with you?"

Melissa nodded. "M-hm. She wants to know where Benny is, she'll be able to ask them."

Ringo shook his head and peered at the hacienda. "I don't approve of this."

"It's not for you to approve of," Melissa said flatly.

"Thanks for the worry, Ringo," En said, "but I'll be okay." She hoped.

"Hmm."

Melissa nodded at En. "You ready, jillaroo?"

"M-hm."

"Just walk with me, keep your hands visible and make no sudden movements, and we _should_ be okay." With that, she put a foot on the low wall the troopers had been taking cover behind, and went over. En took a moment to swallow, exchange a glance with Ringo, who nodded, and then followed Melissa into the scarily open courtyard.


	27. Never Surrender

**.**

**TWENTY-SEVEN**

**Boulder City**

**July 5th**

**Afternoon**

En's heart beat hard in her chest as she followed Melissa over the wall and into the hacienda courtyard. She briefly looked back at her XM-21 and Melissa's P90, back with Ringo along with their handguns. Strangely enough, from where they were now, they could see through the gaps in the walls, all the way back to the monument. And what En saw there made her very briefly forget about the sticky situation they were about to get themselves into. "Melissa."

"What?"

"Look."

Melissa peered through the corridor made by the smashed-down walls and grinned. "Great. Havin' fun while we're riskin' our necks."

In the shadow of the monument stood Watkins and the NCR corporal, tongue- kissing without any shame, Leza's hand clearly down the front of the trooper's pants.

"She doesn't lay about, does she?" En said.

Melissa shrugged. "Just don't shake her hand for the rest of the day."

An involuntary shudder went across En's back.

"C'mon, we've got work to do while they're dickin' around." Melissa chuckled. "Heh. Dickin' around."

Yeah. Work to do. Like parleying with a bunch of cornered, exhausted and angry Khans without getting their faces shot off. Still, Melissa would be able to make them see reason, right? And if they gave their guarantee that they could leave, then surely they'd believe them and take the chance when it was offered? Then again, they were Khans and from what En knew of them, they often preferred the proud approach over the constructive one. It was by no means impossible that it would at some point turn into a shoot-out.

"No need to be nervous," Melissa said. "If it's Jessup, he'll listen to me. We go back a long way, yeah?"

"Uh huh." She'd still be a lot happier when she was out of here. But she had to come with, because if it did turn violent, she'd need to know where that Benny guy was. She hadn't come all this way for nothing.

"Keep your hands visible," Melissa repeated, holding her hands out at the side of her body to illustrate the point. En did the same. "Oi, Jessup!"

A shot rang out, sending a puff of dust fly up at Melissa's feet, and almost making En jump out of her skin. "Easy, jillaroo," Melissa told her. "Just a warnin' shot. Must not have recognized me with all the shyte glued onto my face."

"So call out to him then," En half-shouted, her voice jittery.

Melissa grinned at her and shouted, "Jessup, you're not gonna shoot one of yer old mates, are ya?"

There was a short silence, and then a rough male voice. "Holy shit, Melissa. That you?"

"No, it's her twin sister, Vanessa," Melissa called back. "The one you didn't have the best rootin' of yer life with in the trial pit in the dead o' night."

"Who's that with you?"

"Friend o' mine, we're here to put a peaceful end to this situation, yeah?"

"Those NCR dogs send you?"

Melissa laughed. "You a total fruitcake? Like I said, we're here to help you guys leave alive. If you'd let us in, we'd be able to talk better?"

"Alright," the gruff man's voice shouted. "But no funny business, alright?

"Christ, Jessup, it's me," Melissa said as they slowly approached the hacienda.

"Yeah, well, we don't know what to believe anymore. They said you were fucking dead!"

"Nope, not fucking any dead." Though En, and probably Melissa too, could guess where that rumour had come from. Probably had been launched by the Clive bastard before he'd moved in.

They'd reached the hacienda now, and as En ducked under what was left of the doorway after Melissa, a hand roughly grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her against the wall, the other hand crudely patting her down, feeling inside her pockets and at her belt to check for weapons. At least it was a female hand, if a bit pudgy. Melissa had the dubious pleasure of being frisked by a burly Khan with a long horseshoe moustache. When he spoke, En realized he was the one Melissa had called out to. Jessup.

Holy shit, that Jessup guy! When their eyes met, both En and the Khan realized who the other was. The man had shaved his scraggy beard and left the long moustache, but it was definitely him, judging from the eyes, the lack of teeth, and the poor personal hygiene. And the other's eyes went wide too. "What the fuck," he snarled, reaching for his weapon.

"Whoa, hey!" En protested, but Jessup pointed his heavy .357 revolver square at her forehead. Ugh, this was going to get ugly very fast. En's stomach clenched, the mouth of the revolver so threatening she didn't even dare look at it.

"You're dead," he breathed. "You're both dead! You're ghosts!"

"Not ghosts, Jessup. Put the gun down, yeah?" Melissa said, her tone more annoyed than worried. Then, to En, she said, "Jessup's a little superstitious."

"Two dead people at once," the Khan whispered. "This isn't a coincidence."

"Jessup, neither of us are dead. I was never supposed to be apart from some shitty rumour, and jillaroo here survived the bullet. See?" Then she commanded En to, "show him the scar."

En swallowed with a dry throat, and tilted her head. "Ghuh… ghosts don't get scars, Jessup," she risked to say.

"Come on, Jes," the chubby female Khan said. "She felt real when I patted her down. I'm sure Melissa did to you too."

"Yeah," Melissa added. "I could tell I did from the undue attention to certain body parts."

En almost couldn't believe her eyes when the moustached Khan reached out and pushed her shoulder with two fingers. Touching her seemed to set him somewhat at ease, and his eyes became less wild. The gun, however, did not lower. "You… better have a damn good reason for coming here." Jessup said hoarsely. "An' if you're here for revenge, just tell me right now and I can put a bullet through your head right this time."

"Lower the gun, Jessup. Look at her, what's she gonna do? Grab you by the leg and use you as a club against the others?" Good argument. Jessup was more than a head taller than En, and his arms were as wide as her legs. It would be David against Goliath only without even a sling. "Besides, you're threatening to shoot her because you shot her. Not makin' much sense, is it?"

The Khan hesitated for a few seconds more, then slowly put the weapon down. En couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. With that, her headache swelled to a pounding so hard she had to close one eye. God dammit all this stress was murder.

"So what the fuck do you want?" Jessup asked. "And how the fuck are you even alive?"

The initial stress had gone and as always, En's confidence came back far too quickly, even though she didn't realize. "I got better."

The Khan bared his teeth and made to raise the revolver again. "Don't fuck with me, kid!"

"Easy, Jessup," Melissa said. "No one's fuckin' with anyone. Hear us out, so we can defuse this situation, yeah?"

Jessup licked his lips in indecision. It wasn't until the chubby Khan woman said, "Come on, Jes, let's hear 'em out. Can't get any worse. Besides, it's _Melissa_. Our sister, right?"

"Not sure I got much respect for a _sister_ who lets other people parade 'em around in chains like a slave."

"Jessup, listen to me, alright?" Melissa said with a frown. "I'll explain the whole thing, but you need to fuckin' listen or those NCR troopers are gonna shoot the shit out of you!"

"Let 'em. I'd rather die in a hail of bullets than get hauled around in chains!"

"I'm sure," Melissa said, rolling her eyes. "Now, you gonna listen or what?"

Grudglingly, Jessup finally caved and said, "Fine, we can talk in the back. But one move, and there'll be four dead bodies."

He led them through the demolished foyer and to what had once been a dining room. There, two NCR soldiers sat on their knees, their hands on their heads, with the two remaining Khans holding a gun to their heads. One held an old, rusted combat shotgun to the back of a male trooper's head, the other had an AK-47, which looked like it was being held together by duct tape, lazily trained on the nape of the female soldier's neck. The man's eyes looked vacant, as if he was sleeping on his knees, whereas the woman looked at the ground, smears of eyeliner on her cheeks.

"If these two try anythin'," Jessup told his fellow Khans, "blow their brains out, got it?"

The girl on her knees shed fresh tears of despair at that, while the man simply stared vacantly in front of him.

"Don't worry," En said, "We're here to make sure everyone goes home in one piece."

Jessup shoved her hard in the back. "Don't speak to these _animals_." He pointed the barrel of his revolver at the three chairs that still stood at the old, battered, dusty dining table. "Now sit and start talkin'."

Carefully, they explained the whole situation, starting with Goodsprings, En's recovery, and the entire journey that had led them to Boulder City. At one point En's headache became too much and Melissa took over, telling the rest of the story while En sat with her eyes closed and waited for the pain to stop. Jessup gradually became less suspicious as the story progressed, but his frown stayed on his face, and his hand never left the grip of his revolver.

"So you're tellin' me big bad Melissa's feelin' sorry because of what we did to the little girl?" Jessup asked at the end. "It was a job, nothin' more."

"Look," Melissa said. "I don't expect you to understand, and I didn't lead her here so she could get back at you. It's Benny we want, nobody else."

"We, huh?"

"Well, she. I'm just helpin'."

"Didn't know you were such a carin' and righteous individual, Melissa," Jessup sneered.

"Sometimes people just wanna set right what they've done wrong. All we need is for you to tell us where that Benny mongrel's holed up. Then we'll talk to the NCR guys and let you get out of here without being carried."

Jessup chuckled without humour. "I'll tell you where to find Benny alright. That sonovabitch double-crossed us and let us walk right into this NCR trap. Weaseled out of payin' us and left us to croak. Cheating shithead."

"So where is he?" En asked, her headache almost tolerable.

"Asshole's gone to the Strip, probably to piss away the money he didn't pay us. Was probably hopin' this'd end in a shoot-out so nobody'd come after him."

"Somebody's coming after him alright," En said fiercely. "But not who he expects."

"Well," Jessup said, reaching into his jacket pocket, "if you do see him, give him this back." He held up a silver cigarette lighter engraved with a B. "Rat bastard's lighter. Dropped it when he ran after seein' the NCR patrol." He held the lighter to his eye. "He sees this, he'll know who lived to tell you where he was. Heard he spends a lotta time at the Tops casino."

En took the lighter, but as she did so, she thought of another, much better thing to do with it. Because along with the cigarettes and the casings, this lighter was irrefutable proof that it was indeed Benny who'd shot her. And she wasn't out for revenge in the eye-for-an-eye sense, but if she could get the murdering bastard arrested and thrown in jail, well, that _would_ be justice, right?

The Tops casino. En's heart leapt when she realized this would be the place they'd find him. All the other destinations had been waypoints, this was the last place they'd need to go. It would all be decided in Las Vegas.

"Appreciate it, Jessup," Melissa said. "Now let's see 'bout gettin' the NCR to go easy on you."

"Gonna butter up to the NCR, are ya?" Jessup asked, turning hostile again. "I told you before, I ain't talkin' to those sons of bitches."

"Me neither," Melissa said, then pointed at En. "But she is."

"Yeah," En agreed, "I mean, despite what you did to me, I don't wanna see people die. You helped me get to Benny, and that's good enough for me. I don't care if you get shot to shreds," she didn't, "but I do want to see these two soldiers leave this place alive."

Jessup sat for a moment, his fist over his mouth, then said, "Fine. Take 'em. You're stayin' instead."

Wait, what? En felt her eyes widen. "Who, me?"

"Yeah, you," he grunted. "You're both stayin' with us until the NCR promises treat us fairly. Then we let you go. Promise."

En didn't know what to do, so she cast a doubtful glance at Melissa, who said, "Jessup's got no class, but he's a man of his word. We'll stay, it's no big deal. NCR will get a lot less tetchy when they get their soldiers back."

En hadn't expected to become a hostage herself, but if Melissa vouched for this guy, it'd probably be okay. Plus, she figured saying no wasn't an option. "Fine. But you let these people go right now."

Without a word, Jessup stood up, grabbed the female trooper by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. She let out a stifled wail, unwilling to believe she might still survive the day. Then Jessup did the same to the male trooper. "Get out of here, you dogs."

When the two were too sullen to comply, Jessup pistol-whipped the man over the head. It wasn't hard, but he yelped nonetheless, grabbing his head and staggering forward. "Get out of here, I said! Go back to your murderer friends!" He raised the revolver to whack the girl as well. That was enough to get them moving. They both grabbed each other by the clothing and stumbled out, past the Khans guarding the front of the hacienda and into the sunlight.

"Now they got their two cockroaches back, they'll be happy as pie, won't they?" Jessup grunted at En, his tone saying they'd better be.

"We'll see," Melissa said, rising from her chair. "You'll probably get off with just a few months in jail. Come on, let's go tell 'em it's time for them to show some good will, yeah?"

How Melissa could be so calm and confident, En had no idea. For the same price, the NCR would simply mow all of them down once they set foot outside the hacienda. En and Melissa would be filed as collateral damage.

Flanked by Jessup and the chubby Khan woman, En and Melissa stepped out into the sunlight. The two other Khans were behind them. On the other side of the courtyard, lieutenant Monroe and his men stood waiting, the two erstwhile captives sitting down and drinking greedily from a water canteen. En permitted herself a glance through the gaps in the walls, at the monument. The corporal Melissa had been sucking faces with sat in the shade, smoking a cigarette. En allowed herself to briefly grin.

"You got your men back," Jessup called out to the NCR squad, "So now you're lettin' us get on our way."

Monroe shook his head. Ah, shit. En's stomach clumped into a hard ball, even though she'd known it'd be unrealistic to expect the NCR to just let them off the hook. "You took two NCR soldiers hostage for four days, _Khan_," the lieutenant yelled back. "We can't just let you walk. Release these two civilians and surrender. I promise you'll be sentenced lightly and treated well."

"Fucking no-good jarhead sonovabitch," Jessup hissed between his teeth. "Well, guess we knew he'd want to haul us in anyways."

"They'll keep in mind that we let their soldiers go, won't they?" the chubby Khan girl asked. "I mean, it'll just be a few months and then we can go. A lot better than how we thought it would end."

"Yeah. You guys go on, surrender. You'll have to spend a while in jail, but you'll be alive."

"What do you mean, 'you guys'?" the Khan woman asked. "What are you gonna do?"

"I ain't gonna be caged, not even for a minute, not by the NCR," Jessup said fiercely. "Unlike Melissa here, I still believe in 'live free or die'." Melissa kept quiet and let it pass. "I ain't got anyone back home, but you guys, you guys'll be missed if something happens. So go on, surrender."

"I got a kid on the way back at Red Rock, man," one of the Khans said from the back. "They need me alive back there." His head lowered, he slowly walked toward the NCR soldiers, holding his shotgun by the barrel. "Sorry, Jessup."

"It's cool," he said. "You guys do your time and go on home."

The female Khan got moving as well. "Come on, Jessup. No point dyin' over this."

"Live free or die, Cheryl," Jessup said, the resignation clear in his voice. "But I ain't holdin' anything against you. You can all make your own choices, and I'm proud to have called you my brothers."

The Khan only gave him a sad smile, then walked after the other one.

"I'm stayin', Jessup," the last Khan said. "Live free or die, my friend."

"Live free or die," Jessup only repeated. "You two get on outta here," he said to En and Melissa. "Kid, too bad you had to get shot. And Mel, I've always cared about you. More than I could ever say."

"You can still surrender," Melissa said, her eyes clouding. "I know it's Khan principle to choose death over surrender, but Jessup…" she hesitated for a moment.

"What?"

"… it's bullshit," she blurted out. "Dying for some stupid back-patch is _bullshit_, Jessup! The Khans, they tell you it's all about death before dishonour, but in the end, what good is dyin'? What good is it to anyone? What's the point in bein' proud if you're throwin' your life away over it?"

En couldn't believe what she was hearing. The other Khan looked at the NCR soldiers and then at Jessup, hesitated for a moment and then said, "She's right, Jessup. Come on." He began walking toward the NCR soldiers, but Jessup stayed where he was.

"Go on, you two. I'm stayin' here. I'll die like a Khan. For Bitter Springs."

"What are you talkin' about?" Melissa insisted. "How does dyin' here do anythin' for Bitter Springs?"

"I'm not surrenderin' to the murderers," was all Jessup said. "I'm doin' it the Khan way."

Melissa didn't give up. "We _shot_ this kid. In the head. If she'd lived accordin' to the Khan way, she'd have blown my brains out right there at Quarry Junction, like I deserved. But she _didn't_. And if I'd lived accordin' to the Khan way, I'd have ordered her to shoot me, but I _didn't_. Sometimes you have to be proud, Jessup, and sometimes you just have to be smart. If we'd both been proud back at Quarry Junction, then I'd be dead and you'd be spendin' the rest of your life lookin' over your shoulder until one day, a bullet would come outta nowhere and your last thought would be that she finally found you."

"What's your point?" he merely asked, his voice raw.

"My point," Melissa said sadly, "is that you don't have to die here today. My point is that bein' a Khan shouldn't be about bein' stupid and throwin' your life away out of stupid pride."

"That," Jessup said, disdain in his voice, "is why you're no longer a Khan, Melissa."

Melissa shook her head. "I'm sorry you don't understand. Come on, En, let's go. He wants to live free or die."

"You sure?" En asked. She hadn't cared one way or the other about this murderer, but now that she saw him standing there, all alone, she couldn't help but feel sorry for this wasted life.

Melissa nodded. "He's got a right to his own decisions. He's a Khan and if he wants to die like one, then we have to respect that."

Jessup stood facing the NCR soldiers, his jaw set and an icy determination in his eyes. The wind played with his leather vest and the loose threads of the bandanna wrapped around his head. His arms were crossed and the revolver was hanging at his hip. It was only now that En noticed the tags on his vest, like those Melissa had had, only instead of one saying KHANS and the other MEMBER, his said KHANS and SGT-AT-ARMS.

Melissa took En's hand and together they walked back to the NCR soldiers, over the wall and past them, to where Ringo, Sunny and Cheyenne stood waiting. The three Khans who'd surrendered stood proudly watching Jessup, their hands tied behind their backs. En looked back one last time to see Jessup inhaling deeply and reaching for his revolver, then she closed her eyes. The thunder of an uncountable number of shots blasted through the air, and it was over.


	28. Metropolis

**.**

**TWENTY-EIGHT**

**Boulder City**

**July 5th**

**Evening**

She didn't look back at Jessup's body, lying in the courtyard of the hacienda, probably horribly hacked apart by the bullets that had been fired at him, and she guessed Melissa didn't either. Neither Ringo nor Melissa spoke, and En figured that was best. Sunny briefly asked, "You two alright?" and got two short confirmations, but apart from that, nothing was said until they got back to the monument.

Leza Watkins stood waiting, her hands behind her back and a smile on her face. "Hey guys. Good to see you're alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Melissa answered. She sounded surprisingly level-headed. If En had figured it correctly, this Jessup guy had been a kind of friend-with-benefits, someone she'd known for a long time already, so it must have been harrowing for her to leave him to be shredded by gunfire. "Looks like you've been busy too?"

With a sheepish grin, Watkins merely said, "A girl's got, you know, her needs?"

"I know. So what about the treason problem?"

"Bah, it's not treason if no one sees?"

"So," Sunny asked, eager to get what she suspected was a rather uncomfortable subject behind them. "Where we going next, sweetie?"

"Uh… well, Vegas, actually."

"What, Vegas, as in, the city itself?" Ringo asked.

"M-hm."

Watkins let out a psyched, "Whoooo!", and surprisingly, Melissa said to En, sounding cheerful as well, "But you've got to promise me we're takin' a night on the town, jillaroo!"

"Uh, yeah, sure," En said, taken a bit by surprise. "Didn't think you'd be in the mood for that," she permitted herself to add.

Melissa shrugged. "Jessup went the way he wanted to. I did my best to convince him, but in the end, a man's got to decide his own fate, and I respect that. Cryin' over his decision wouldn't be very respectful, yeah?"

"For once," Ringo said, "I'm in agreement with Melissa. A man's life is his own and it's his decision how he chooses to end it."

All En could say was, "Fair enough. But yeah, I suppose I'd like to take a nightly tour of Las Vegas too." She was kinda curious, to be honest. She'd heard of Vegas, that it was one of the few cities not smashed to rubble by the bombs, a gambling, drinking and, well, whoring paradise that drew travellers from far away, who buzzed around its neon like moths. But stories were often exaggerated, and she'd be able to see how wonderful it all was (or wasn't) for herself now. The letter to her folks had been posted, so no reason not to combine the useful and the pleasant by considering the trip to Vegas both a conclusion to her search, and an opportunity for some fun.

"Ooh, nice!" Sunny cheered. "But if we win a lot of money, you are _so_ buying me a gorgeous cocktail dress." En knew it couldn't be one that cut off above the ankles, but it seemed Sunny hadn't thought of that. So much the better.

"And I'm gettin' the bridge of my nose pierced," Melissa added. "Been wantin' to get that done since I was little." Figured she'd spend her winnings on more body mods.

"Let's concentrate on what we need to do there first, shall we?" Ringo said sourly.

"Rin-_go_," Leza whined. "It's _Vegas_, come on!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Meyers heard them approach and emerged from behind his hidey-corner. "So, where we goin'?"

With a little squeal, Watkins announced, "Vegas, baby!"

Grinning, Meyers merely said, "Lovely!"

The walk took them past some obliterated clusters of houses, and under what seemed to be an extremely high freeway, held up by supports. The thing was at least twenty metres above ground, probably the only viaduct that still stood this high. When En looked up and saw the form of the viaduct against the setting sun, she couldn't suppress an awed, "Whoa."

"Yeah," Meyers agreed. "Impressive."

The viaduct ended in thin air, probably where the road had fallen away from decay or the blasts from the bombs, but it was still very tempting to imagine it as a sort of rainbow bridge that led up to heaven. Hm, En thought, where had she heard of that before? Oh, right, her parents and their obsession with history and mythology. Some kind of myth had a heaven that was accessible by a rainbow bridge, but guarded by some ever-vigilant, surly badass on a horse. No matter.

At the horizon, Las Vegas itself could be seen, still rather far away, but clearly discernible as a skyline of tall buildings against the purple sky. One building in particular looked very high, at least twenty storeys, topped by a strange saucer-like construction. En didn't know why, but she got the feeling that this building would be important somehow. But maybe that was what you always thought of the highest building in a city.

"If what I've been told is correct," Ringo said out of the blue, "we can't just enter New Vegas, not just like that. We need to go through a place called Freeside first."

"What's Freeside?" Sunny asked.

"Supposed to be the outskirts of New Vegas," Ringo answered, "and quite a contrast with the opulence, or supposed opulence, of Vegas itself." Again En had to grin at Ringo's way of talking. Who the Hell used words as 'opulence' in normal conversation?

"What's an oppalents?" Leza asked, unashamed.

With a roll of his eyes, Ringo said, "Opulence. Visible and flaunted wealth."

"Flaunted," Meyers explained to Watkins before she could ask, "means openly shown to impress people. Like in the sentence, 'Some people flaunt their broad vocabularies'."

"Ooh, ZING!" En exclaimed, hoping for a good comeback from Ringo. If there was anything she loved, it was people trading barbs. The exposition of the wit required, the speed of thinking, that elusive ability to know what joke can be funny and embarrass someone at the same time, while still being harmless enough not to set bad blood, priceless!

"Forgive me," Ringo shot back, keeping a smile on his face. When people did that, combined with a sarcastic apology, it meant a retort was coming. Yes! "I'm only a young fool whose object of his affection is _not_ thirty years younger than he is."

"Oh!" Melissa cheered triumphantly. "The stuffy-man comes back swingin'!"

Meyers had a come-back ready. "I don't think there's a big age difference between me and your mother."

"Oof, low blow!" En commentaried. This was getting good!

"My mother is a very attractive woman for her age," Ringo riposted. "And she'll look better at your age than you did at hers."

"She certainly didn't complain when we brushed our teeth in the morning last week."

"She's seen you both naked though", En joined the fray, thinking this one was too good to pass up, "and knows exactly what you're both compensating for with all this hot air." That prompted an approving shoulder-punch from Melissa.

"Miss En," Ringo exclaimed, sounding hurt. "Such betrayal!"

Meyers shrugged. "Ignore her, Ringo, she probably still thinks children grow from cauliflowers."

"Indeed. Her knowledge of naked men is still limited to the time little Johnny Rottencrotch got his pants pulled down by the bullies in the playground."

Oh ho ho ho! So the guys were going to gang up on her. Fine, she could take them. "The first time you two saw a naked woman was probably when she was saying, 'don't worry, it's not a big deal, we'll just try again in a few minutes'."

Good one, if she said so herself. Melissa, Sunny and Watkins seemed to agree, all three whooping and cheering for the lone member of the Girls Team.

Meyers laughed heartily and conceded. "Look at you girl, givin' it right back!"

Ringo wasn't about to admit defeat just yet, "I probably have more experience unhooking a bra than you do."

Oh, he did _not_ just make a breast size joke! Oh, he was gonna pay for that one! An awed "Ooooh," came from the spectators. That ooooh that said, _now it's on_.

"That's right, though the guy who runs the clothing store asked to wash his mannequins down after you're done with them." Pow! In your face, smart pants! Meyers had switched sides again, and laughed along with the other girls, putting everyone on Team En. Ringo vs. The World, it's go time! Do your worst, stuffy-man!

"At least what I do doesn't drain any batteries."

Ha, one point for effort, but a predictable, slow and clumsy left hook that earned him only a modest amount of appreciation from the crowd, and left him wide open to a jaw-breaking uppercut. "No, but Sunny probably still goes through a lot of them."

Sunny let out an indignant "Hey!" at that, swatting at En's shoulder. En's counter had knocked his lights out, and Ringo slumped to the mat. En wins, KO, you fight like a girl, hair-cutting guy! Watkins echoed her thoughts when she shouted, "Oh! Fatality!"

Ringo looked at the ground and grinned. "Miss En, I must recognize you as the victor in this particular battle."

En laughed as gleefully as she could. "Go home and be a family man."

Smiling lovingly at Ringo, Sunny put her arm around his waist and walked close to him. En didn't know if the others had noticed, but the little jab-fest had made everyone forget their animosity toward each other. At least for a while. So not only had she provided an incomparable display of verbal curb-stomping, she'd also brought everyone just a little bit closer together while she did it. Damn, she deserved an imaginary medal for that. Ah, to be so underappreciated…

"Hey, um, you think there's a place we could unload some of our loot?" Sunny asked, craning her neck to look back at En, who only answered with a shrug. "I dunno. I've never been this far out, how am I supposed to know?"

"Tch," Sunny blew. "You're a lousy tour guide."

"I'm bad at memorizing historical tidbits but I'm funny."

Ignoring the exchange, Ringo said, "Crimson Caravan's got its base near here. If memory serves, they sometimes deal with a group called the Gun Runners, and I think they're based near here." He thought for a moment. "Close to the entrance to Freeside, I think."

"Heard of them. They'll probably buy our extra hardware," Melissa said. "So I can finally get rid of all the damn weight in this pack."

Shit, yeah. Even though she was beaten and burned to a wreck, Melissa still hauled the extra weapons and stuff around they'd wanted to pawn off.

"Well, if we hurry," En said, "we might get there in time to spend a night in a hotel or something. I mean… Vegas is bound to have hotels, right?" Her head was aching more than usual, and she was looking forward to dropping on a bed and closing her eyes.

"I'd say that's pretty likely," Ringo said. "Gate to Freeside is in the East wall, by the way, so we have to follow the road going East of the city."

"What, we can't just walk on in?" En said, blinking.

"No. City's completely walled, so you need to use one of the few gates into it. No problem for Freeside, but I've heard you need a pass to get into Vegas itself."

Aw, crap, another hurdle. "What kind of pass?" En asked, dreading the answer. In the distance, the mostly featureless concrete walls surrounding New Vegas came closer. Featureless except for the posters and graffiti, of course. Set against the wall was what looked like a wire fenced enclosure with a few buildings behind it. And it looked like the towers in the corners of the fence were manned with armed guards. Lights had gone on inside the building and on the towers, and it seemed two of the towers had beamers to cut through the rapidly darkening twilight.

"I'm not sure," Ringo answered her question about the pass. "We'll find out when we reach the city, I suppose."

"Armed guards, wire fence," Melissa said, referring to the enclosure against the wall. "Wouldn't be surprised if that's the Gun Runners' place."

Sunny squinted at the fenced buildings and muttered, "Oh yeah… there."

They strolled up to the enclosure and saw that one of the buildings was outside of the fence, a small wooden booth manned by a kind of robot. Against its wall stood a workbench, where a man was tinkering with an old rifle. He stopped tapping the thing with his hammer and looked up at the new arrivals. "Hey. You customers?" The guards on the tower were watching them closely.

"Uh… yeah, I guess," En said. "This is the Gun Runners, right?"

"Damn straight." He flapped his hand at the booth. "Buyin' and sellin's over at the bot there. Need something repaired, give me a holler. Name's Isaac."

"That's alright," En said, not even realizing she was smirking. "I can repair just about anything myself."

The man at the workbench gave a dismissive chuckle. "Well, do your buyin' and sellin' at the vendortron there, kid." Then he shamelessly winked at Watkins. "You need anythin' repaired, beautiful?"

Watkins replied with a sultry, "Maybe. Those muscles of yours sure look like they can do a lot of heavy duty work."

Sunny spoke in everyone else's name as she said, "Anyone got a bucket I can throw up in?"

Regardless, Watkins innocently strolled over to the gun-repairing guy, prompting an irritated Meyers to mutter, "With everybody but me."

The 'bot' as the Isaac guy had described it was of the Protectron model, a stupid-looking egg-shaped body with short, stupid looking little arms and set on short, stupid-looking little legs. With a metallic, computerized, stupid-sounding voice, the thing said, "Welcome sir or madam. Do you wish to purchase something?"

"No. I wanna sell stuff."

"Very well, please present the items you wish to sell."

Letting out a grunting sigh, En reached into Melissa's pack and placed the weapons on the table. She wanted to use some of them for spare parts initially, but caps were more needed now, so too bad. It was a shame to have to pawn those spare-part treasures off, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"Proposed turn-out in caps, three hundred forty eight."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

The counter slid into the booth, taking the old guns with it, and came back out with the caps neatly stacked into piles of ten. "Thank you for your business."

Watkins took a break from flirting with the repairman to ask, "Hey robot dude, um, how'd you even get into that booth?"

Oh yeah, En noticed it too. There was no door or other means of entry to the booth, just walls and one bulletproof glass window to interact through.

"This booth was specially constructed around me to deter attempts at thievery or robbery," the stupid bot answered.

"Everyone good on ammo?" En asked the others, turning around. Turned out there were a few ammo purchases necessary, which drained a quarter of the caps the weapons had brought in. At the end of the transaction, the bot said, still sounding metallic and emotionless, "Thank you for your business."

"Yeah, whatever. Where's the Freeside gate?"

"Only half a kilometre north of here, sir or madam."

"Uh huh." With that, she turned away.

Sunny looked at En puzzled. "What's that beer can ever done to you?"

With a shrug, En said, "Nothing. I just don't like robots."

"Hm, fair enough."

"Leza. We're going."

Watkins was just giggling girlishly at a joke the repair guy had made, openly flirting, her body language clearly showing that she loved the attention as she leaned on the counter in a graceful and maximally feminine pose. En was determined to cut it off this time, before hands went down pants. "Come on, Leza."

Watkins turned around, "Alright." Giving the gunsmith a last teasing smile and getting a barely-hiding-the-disappointment one in return, she joined the others as they walked to the Freeside gate.

"Well, here we are. Last stop for you, sweetie," Sunny said as they stood in front of a red-wooden double gate with the word FREESIDE and a downwards arrow graffiti'd above it. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, En hoped that was because she wanted the trip together to last a little longer still. But hey, she and Ringo could always come back to New Arroyo with her, though En didn't plan on telling them that until she was sure they both wanted to. So she just stuck to, "We'll see right? Might still be a long way to go." In truth, she hoped so herself too, because as much as she loved home, once this trip stopped, it was gone for good. So better have fun while it lasted.

Ringo, as always, was far more detached about the whole thing, or at least he acted that way. He set his hands against the double doors and said, "Shall we?"

Watkins responded in everyone's name by cheering, "Vegas, yay!"

The sight they beheld in the darkness of the night was anything but yay. Freeside looked like a dilapidated ruin, not smashed by the bombs like so many other cities, but simply fallen apart from lack of maintenance. Some of the buildings had simply collapsed or fallen over, others still stood up, but seemed to be doing so with their last ounce of strength. Posters and graffiti were all over the walls that still stood, and the cracked and potholed streets were littered with trash, litter and even a dead animal or two. Reliants sat slumped against the walls, some with one arm bare and a loose tourniquet around it, others surrounded by empty bottles, and quite a lot with both. In the middle of the road lay a man in dirty torn clothing, face down and probably dead. So much for bright neon and glittering diamonds.

"Ugh," Watkins remarked, disappointed. "This isn't what I expected?"

"Like I said," Ringo said impatiently, "this is Freeside. Supposedly the place where people stop by on the way to Vegas, but from the looks of it…" he trailed off.

Melissa finished his sentence for him. "It's where mongrels end up when they've blown all their money at the tables."

"Sounds about right," Meyers added.

Cheyenne was agitated, panting loudly and tugging at her leash. "Might not be all that safe here at night," Sunny told the others. "We best find a place to stay as soon as possible."

"Uh yeah," Leza said, looking around edgily. "Gorgeous girl like me, you know? Valued prey for people like these?"

"You saying we're not gorgeous?" En joked.

"Not like me you're not."

En couldn't tell if she was joking or serious. Probably a bit of both.

Squinting, Sunny pointed out, "What's that neon sign say?"

On one of the corners, a large vertical neon sign said, in rather enormous letters, "ATOMIC WRANGLER". Damn, Sunny sure was blind, En thought to herself with a smile.

"Atomic Wrangler," Meyers read out loud. "Sounds like a bar or somethin', no?"

"M-hm," Melissa agreed. "Most bars have rooms."

"Awwww," Leza whined. "I wanna go to Vegas _now_? Night's still young!"

"Night will be young tomorrow too," Ringo flatly said. "Let's go take a look at that wrangler place."

"Yeah," Sunny said with a nod. "Could do with a bed, my legs are really aching."

"I can imagine they are," Melissa said in a completely serious and empathic tone. No sarcasm, no snide remarks, just a bit of honest-to-God support. It was a relief to hear. Sunny herself even looked a bit surprised by Melissa's completely barbless reply.

"Ugh," Watkins said. "If it's even got beds, they're probably, like, full of lice and stuff?"

"I'll kill the lice in my bed," Meyers said to that, "and then you can just – "

"Um, _no_?" Leza was quick to interrupt him.

"We'll have to pair up though," Ringo said, his mind, as always on the practical things. "So you four will have to – "

"I'm sleeping with Ennie," Watkins immediately blurted out. "No discussion."

"You sure?" En couldn't resist. Her headache was killing her, but she ignored it. "I might be a massive pervert? Might try to ravage you as you sleep, and all?"

"Um, don't _you_ start?"

"She _is_ a total sex fiend," Melissa joined in, giving En a barely perceptible conspiratorial grin. "She'll show you all corners of the room. But don't worry, you can bunk with me."

Watkins didn't seem to notice that she was getting her leg pulled. "Okay, um, Melissa, you're, like, cool and all, but no. I'm not… like that."

"Why?" Sunny asked, adding to the band of Watkins-chain-yankers. "You a bit homophobic, Initiate Watkins?"

"Hey, whoa, no," Watkins protested, bringing her hands up. "I didn't say that? I'm just… um, not comfortable with the idea?"

Melissa crossed her arms, and glared. "So you _are _homophobic."

"_No_! I'm just… people can, like, do whatever they want, but me, you know, personally, I just don't want, like," she grimaced at the thought, "another woman's head between my legs or something. Ew, no." Hastily, she added, "Like, personal choice, right?" She seemed to realize what a sticky situation she'd brought herself in. Nobody really gave a shit about homophobia or racism, at least not like they supposedly did before the war, but there was the matter of one's immediate company taking offence.

Melissa only said, "I don't like homophobes. I've kicked the shit out of people for less."

"No! Come _on_!" Watkins began to look more than a bit intimidated, all eyes on her.

"I'm bi, as you know. You hate people like me, right?" Melissa punched her palm. "People who hate me, I tend to hate them right back." The entire group had fallen completely silent.

"Melissa, come on, I just," Watkins stammered, her one uncovered eye looking almost panicked, "I'm not, I mean, it's just that, I think, I'm, like personally, not against, um,…" She ended her awkward defence with an almost teary plea of, "Melissa, come on!"

A brief, uncomfortable silence fell. Leza's eye looking scared at Melissa, who loomed over her like a muscled, tattooed, fuming goliath. "Melissa? Come on!"

Then Melissa stopped holding her grin back.

Watkins visibly relaxed, letting out an enormous volume of pent-up air. Bringing a hand up to her forehead, she sighed in relief. "You _guys_."

Laughing, Sunny said, "Oh blondie, you should've seen your face!"

Imitating Watkins' nasal voice and standing like a scared child, En whined, "Oh no Melissa please no don't hit me pleasepleasepleaseplease no Melissa come _on_!"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, alright," Watkins muttered, visibly relieved.

"Are the children done being funny with each other?" Ringo asked sourly.

"Yeah, Ringo,"' Melissa said. "You're a good sport, blondie. Don't worry, I'll bunk with the sheriff."

Meyers chuckled at that. "I wouldn't dare try anythin' with you, that's for sure."

"Right," Ringo said. "Settled then." With that, he pushed the door to the Atomic Wrangler open.

Inside the bar was a pleasant friendliness that reminded En of the bar in Goodsprings, when it was just getting fun and Sunny had told her to go home. And of Old Cassidy's in New Arroyo, though there were rarely that many people there. Smoke hung low above the tables where travellers and patrons sat and talked. At the bar sat more customers, some respectable-looking, others with an appearance that was far less confidence-inducing. A man and a woman tended bar, brother and sister from the looks of them, struggling to keep up with the orders. Oldies came from speakers suspended in the corners, and the low buzz of the talking made the place feel alive. At the far end were two tables, one where a card game was being played, and one that had a sort of spinning wheel on it. At both tables, there were people playing and people watching, and especially from the spinning table (En seemed to remember the game was called 'roulette'), loud cries of triumph and of dismay rose up. She'd have to try that sometime.

"Hello there," the bartending sister called out while she poured two different shots at the same time. "Welcome to the Wrangler! Sit your asses down or drink on your feet, it's all the same." When she saw Cheyenne, she added, "Dogs are welcome, but keep 'em leashed."

"Free table right there," Sunny half-shouted through the noise in the bar. A group of seven people had just gotten up and grabbed their coats, and from what En knew of bars, a table was never free for more than ten seconds.

"I could do with a sit-down," Meyers said, shouldering through the bar customers and flinging himself down on one of the chairs. Watkins followed right after, and soon everyone sat around the table, the disgruntled glares of those too late to claim the table notwithstanding.

"Think you'll keep it civilized today, blondie?" Melissa asked Watkins.

"I don't know," Watkins said, "would you mind if I brought a guy up to our room, Ennie?"

"I most certainly would."

"Then yes, it'll be civilized."

"I'll believe that when the day is over," Sunny said, relaxing in her chair and closing her eyes. Her legs must have hurt from all the walking. Cheyenne curled up under her chair.

Looking back at the bar, Ringo muttered, "They probably won't take orders at the table." With an irritated sigh, he said, "and since none of you seem to have any intention of standing up, I'll go order. What's everyone having?"

Fishing the pack of cigarettes out of Ringo's pocket and lighting one, Melissa said, "What's on tap."

Meyers unabashedly snatched a cigarette from Ringo's pack too. "Scotch please."

"Beer for me too, please, baby. Get a bowl of water for Cheyenne too?"

Watkins raised her hand. "Me too. Beer, not water."

En ordered a coke, as always, and when Ringo got up to get the drinks, she called after him, "And actual coke, none of that sarsaparilla horse pee!" At that, a few old geezers, nudged their heads at her and laughed dismissively. Watkins jumped up from her seat and went after Ringo. "I'll help you carry."

Right, 'help him carry'. Her eyes had been on the bartender guy several times already, so they probably wouldn't be seeing her again in the next hour. With all the flirting she did with people outside of her group, a person would almost get the impression that she didn't find them worthy of her company.

And indeed, as Ringo paid for the drinks, Leza had already struck up a conversation with the bartender, leaning on the counter so she could show off her assets. Predictably, the bartender more than willingly let himself get distracted from his work.

Meyers laughed hoarsely and pointed his chin at the other end of the bar. "Will you look at that."

Sitting at the very end of the bar was a sight that En had to blink at a few times to make sure it was real. It was a woman in fetish gear and a cowboy hat. But not just any woman, no, this one looked like a flayed and burned monstrosity, her leather g-string wedged in between her ruined buttocks, and her ribcage wrapped in some kind of leather corset with studs on it. A ghoul S&M cowgirl. The things you saw in the city.

"Think she gets a lot of customers?"' Sunny asked.

"I… don't even want to think about that," En could only say.

Melissa, on the other hand, seemed intrigued. "I've never done it with a ghoul before."

"No one has, Melissa," Sunny said, making a face. "And there's all sorts of reasons for that."

Melissa blew out smoke from her cigarette and shrugged. "Appearances shouldn't stop people from bein' interested in someone."

With a chuckle, Meyers said, "Tell that to Watkins, I wouldn't mind some of her interest."

"I said appearances," Melissa retorted. "Likelihood to get a heart attack _is_ a legitimate reason."

"My heart and my other pieces of anatomy work fine, you shrew," Meyers said with a grin. "You can always watch when I prove it with Watkins' assistance."

"No thanks, you'd just ruin the view anyway."

They were dirty old man remarks in a way, but it didn't feel like he meant any harm with it. Still, his chances of ever scoring with Watkins were smaller than a midget bacteria.

Ringo set the drinks down with an annoyed "By 'help me carry' she apparently meant 'go flirt and let me carry everything alone'."

"Aww, don't be surly, baby," Sunny cheered him up. "It's nice that we're able to be together like this, right? En's little search is almost over, we might not get another chance."

"That is true," Ringo said, holding his beer bottle out to En. "Miss En, to good comradeship and pleasant travels!"

Meyers also raised his scotch glass. "I'll drink to that."

En didn't really get the whole custom of clinking glasses together, but what the Hell. "Cheers guys. Thanks for coming with me. I couldn't have done it without you." She could have, probably, but that's always what people wanted to hear. "So did you book rooms, Ringo?"

"Certainly did. One for Sunny and me, one for Lusty Leza and you, and one for Melissa and the sheriff."

"Cool, thanks!"

"No dirty business, alright, y'old geezer?" Melissa warned him. "Don't go mistakin' me for blondie in the middle of the night, yeah?"

Grinning sheepishly, Meyers sipped from his scotch and said, "No, I think I'd recognize you from the right hook to the jaw I'd get."

Melissa took a swill from her beer. "Not to mention the fact that your still-workin' anatomy won't be workin' anymore afterwards."

The evening went on, turning into night as more drinks were fetched and stories were told. At one point the entire group lay in stitches over a story Meyers was telling, about some deputy getting his buttocks burned while drunk and then almost drowning when he tried to put himself out. Watkins had come to rejoin them after slaking her flirt-thirst, and she'd started telling about all the pranks she'd pulled in the Brotherhood. Then she'd teamed up with Sunny to get En to tell more about Christopher, her crush back home. After a bit of resistance, she'd indulged them, talking about Cassidy's bar and the embarrassing story of Christopher's mom (the one with the mangled hand) taking her aside and asking her about birth control. This, in return, prompted a story about a condom clogging the toilet from Watkins (of course, who else), leading back to Sunny telling a story about how she'd walked in on her parents having sex. Meyers had hooked in on that, talking about how he'd caught a young couple in the bushes, the guy being the fiancée of the girl's best friend. Melissa had shrugged at that and commented that if you were gonna share, might as well share with a friend. Sunny had protested, saying it was be the worst betrayal if someone stole a friend's lover. That had sparked a long conversation about friendship and what it really was, and had ended with En telling about Allison, and how Allison would never do such a thing. Melissa and Meyers had cynically told her that there was nothing less true than saying someone 'would never', but Sunny, Ringo and En had stuck to their guns and proclaimed their belief in the sanctity of friendship. Leza hadn't gotten involved in the conversation, probably because she'd stolen quite a few guys in her lifetime.

After knocking back the last of his fourth scotch, Meyers had excused himself and gone to bed, prompting a barrage of old-geezer barbs, and Sunny and Ringo had followed not soon after, they in turn being sent off with plenty of crude gonna-have-sex jokes.

The bar had emptied gradually, and now only three of the tables were occupied, and only two people remained at the bar. The music had changed too, going from upbeat fifties ditties to slower, more melancholic songs. En checked her pip-boy when Melissa asked, "So, one more?" It was past three already.

"I could go on all night," Leza answered, though her eyelids were clearly getting heavy.

En doubted for a moment, but then said, "Alright, one more."

Melissa herself was still full of energy, despite her injuries. "Ace! I'll be right back. And no non-alcoholic ponce drinks, yeah?"

"Nah, Melissa," En said regardless, "just a coke's fine."

"Right, beer for jillaroo." Should've known she wouldn't listen. But no harm in it, En supposed. You too, blondie?"

Watkins looked slightly buzzed, but nowhere near last night's grotesque level of intoxication. "Yep, beer."

Melissa clapped Watkins hard on the shoulder. "My kind of girl."

"Not _too_ much, right?"

"Nah, I like my rootin' partners a bit more rugged. You'd probably snap in two from the treatment I'd give you." Then she went to get the drinks.

"This is fun, Ennie," Watkins said, sounding sincere. "I mean, it sucks being booted from the Brotherhood and all, but this, like, makes it far less sucky, you know?"

"Glad to make your life suck less."

Watkins pointed a finger at her. "But hey, when we go for that night in Vegas, we're totally not going to our rooms 'til the sun's up, alright?"

En actually looked forward to a night of partying. It'd be the perfect conclusion to their trip. "Yep, absolutely."

"And we're taking separate rooms, so we can, you know, score you a guy too?"

Ugh, why did everyone always insist that a night of good fun had to end with getting humped by some drunken party animal. "Uh… we'll see. If I get hitched, you can have mine."

"And if that doesn't work, I'm going back home with you and I'll totally teach you everything you need to know to get your claws into that Christopher guy?"

Now if only that could happen. "You'll have your work cut out for you, then. Besides, Allison's tried to hook us up several times and no dice."

"Then I'll get Melissa to beat him up until he comes to his senses."

"Beat who up?" Melissa asked, putting down the drinks.

"That asshole bartender back in her hometown."

"Still goin' on about him, huh?" Melissa grinned. "From what you said about him, he's a lost cause, jillaroo."

"When a guy's hard to get," Watkins imparted, "then you gotta play it hard. So Ennie, we're totally gonna play it hard."

"Let's just drop this, okay?" En said, feeling uncomfortable with the subject. The beer tasted bitter, as she remembered beer to taste, and she didn't enjoy it much.

The conversation shifted again, to more practical matters this time, like their finances (which weren't exactly stellar) and the plans for tomorrow. Leza's flirting had apparently paid off, because the bartender had told her who they needed to see to get inside Vegas 'without all the tedious paperwork'. In other words, illegally. When the beers were finished, they called it a night and headed up to their rooms, Leza falling asleep as soon as she'd changed and hit the rack, and En drifting off not soon after. It promised to be a long and eventful day tomorrow.


	29. Outskirts

**.**

**TWENTY-NINE**

**The Atomic Wrangler**

**July 6th**

**09:20**

The headache was there, as always, but there was also a weird whooshing sound coming from somewhere. Where was she again? Oh, right, that hotel in the zone around Vegas. Freeside, wasn't it? Right.

The whooshing sound went on. What the Hell was that? Only half-awake, En clawed at her blankets to pull them over her head, but they seemed to keep slipping from between her fingers. God dammit. Her head ached and her bladder felt full and what the Hell was that damn noise?

Letting out a frustrated growl, she opened her eyes and looked at her Pip-boy. Nine twenty-five. Not exactly a lot of sleep after staying up 'til three in the morning, but it'd have to do. The other side of the bed was empty, but looked slept on. Oh, right, Watkins. The whooshing sound coming from the bathroom was probably her. Holding a hand to her face, she crawled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. Whatever Watkins was doing, it better not take too long, because the throbbing of her bladder drove her crazy. Three hard raps on the door would probably get blondie's attention.

"Come on in?" Watkins' nasal voice came from behind the door. Come on in, no thanks, En wasn't peeing with her there. She opened the door and stuck her head inside to see Watkins standing in front of a completely steamed-over mirror, blow drying her hair. Damn, these rooms had hair dryers, how 'bout that. "Oh, hey Ennie!"

"Yeah, hey." Watkins only had her panties and bra on, and Meyers probably would have sold his soul and all his worldly possessions to switch places with En, but all En was worried about was that it'd probably take _ages_ for the woman to get ready and vacate the bathroom if she was still in her underwear. "You still got a lot of work here?"

Watkins turned off the blow-dryer and arranged her hair with her fingers. Why she always had that one lock over her eye was a mystery, and En kept wondering how constantly having one eye covered wasn't uncomfortable. "Well, I can't go out looking like this?" Then she picked up a mascara bottle. "I'm already too sexy with my clothes _on_. But if you wanna shower, go on, I don't mind?"

"Uh, yeah, I do. Anyway, shower can wait, but can you just give me a minute in here?"

Putting down the mascara bottle, Watkins pointed at the toilet. "Oh, you gotta…, Oh, right, sure." Zipping past En, she said, "Oh, if you're showering, ummm…?"

"What?"

She cleared her throat nervously. "You might wanna take extra care down there?"

Shit, surely she hadn't been doing it again. A joke might save the situation. "Hey, it's been long days, why? Is it a fish store down there?" She gave a smile which felt forced and awkward, and probably looked the part too.

Watkins didn't laugh. "Ennie, come on."

God dammit! "I don't know what you mean." Another one harassing her with that bullshit. God dammit, she thought she'd taken care not to let it show. She made to close the door, but Watkins held it open.

"Ennie, I'm not good at all that tact stuff. I don't know if you, like, realize and all? But you, um," she took a breath, "you constantly scratch your snatch."

Feeling anger rising up in her, she bit at Watkins, "It's life on the road. Things get itchy." She pulled the door again, but Watkins wouldn't let go. Her face was dead serious.

"Look, I know I'm just a stupid bimbo, but if there's anything – "

"No, Leza. Now let go of the damn door," she snapped, "or I'm gonna punch you in the face." She regretted it as soon as she said it, but the embarrassment and the anger at being so intimately confronted just made her say nasty things. It was as if the intensely private and shameful matter of the whole thing was so great, she refused to acknowledge it or speak of it.

The harsh tone didn't miss its effect, because Watkins' face instantly became upset. "Ennie, hey?"

"Let. Go. Of the door."

With a resigned sigh, Watkins let En pull the door closed. Ugh, looked like she'd have to square things with yet another poor injured soul. Her fault for sticking her nose in En's business, she guessed, but what the Hell, she'd just apologize when she was done peeing and screw it. Yeah, she realized she'd have to see a doctor about the whole thing, but _ew_ letting someone stick his fingers in there. Well, _her_ fingers. Because if she even was going, it damn better not be a male doctor. No, thanks.

Then again, she couldn't keep going like this. Urinating hurt so much it made her squirm on the toilet seat, and even though she thought she'd gotten the scratching under control, it seems she was still doing it, and now even without realizing. As she peed, she had to hook her fingers around the toilet seat and bite the pain, the searing, burning sensation feeling like it went all the way into her abdomen. There was no way this would go away on its own, and yet, after it was done, she took a moment to catch her breath, then pulled her panties back up, and decided to keep fooling herself.

She gave the bathroom back to Watkins, who switched places with her without a word, and got dressed. She'd shower after breakfast, and then probably just unruffle Leza's feathers then. The heavy leather jacket wasn't necessary, so she just put on the pants and a T-shirt. It was an old one she'd brought from New Arroyo and hadn't worn yet since the shooting, a black one with just the letters CEDA on the left breast. She had no idea what it meant.

As she emerged in the hallway, she bumped into Meyers, who greeted her with a cheerful, "Mornin', little lady." She wished him a good morning back, and together they went down into the bar. The bartending couple were nowhere to be seen, and behind the bar stood a ghoul sullenly watching over a coffee machine that sputtered and chortled. Only a few people sat at the tables, mostly weary travellers who'd booked a room and were now having breakfast. Ringo and Sunny already sat at a table with a cup of coffee. They exchanged good mornings and joined them for breakfast, hard and stale piece of bread with something that tasted vaguely like chocolate spread. Ah well, it filled a hungry belly, so it was good. The coffee was of piss poor quality, but it was better than stale bottled water. Melissa came down a few minutes after En, looking chipper despite her injuries. Then again, ever since the animosity in the group had more or less cleared, Melissa's spirits were nigh impossible to get down.

Watkins stayed in the room for a while until breakfast was done, probably sulking, only coming down after half an hour. She'd at least had shown the sense to wear her weird leather-and-metal outfit instead of her casual gear, but her face was still made up and her hair carefully arranged, as if she wanted to be ready at any time in case a guy crossed her path. En liked Watkins, but she really was a ditz. In that, Veronica hadn't exaggerated. She scooted up the stairs for a quick shower and put her heavy leather pants back on, zipping up the leather chestpiece over her fresh T-shirt, smiling at the uselessness of showering and putting on a clean shirt when her leather gear stank all the way to high heaven.

The Mojave sun was burning over the streets of Freeside when they emerged, ready to go find that bastard Benny and let her journey come to an end. It had already been over fifteen days since she'd been shot, and even though it was a relatively short time, she'd still gotten close to the people she'd travelled with, especially Sunny. Sure, she was needy and clingy at times, and horribly insecure, but her heart was in the right place. En hoped she was happy with Ringo, and that she'd be able to persuade them both to come back to New Arroyo.

But those were worries for later. Now, all that mattered was finding that shithead Benny and getting some answers out of him. At least, for starters. She knew an eye for an eye made the whole world blind, but sometimes, when she lay in bed, her only company being her headache that never left her, that constantly pounded in her head, sometimes contained, sometimes so hard it made her vision double, she cursed his name and images came into her head of him on his knees, begging for his life, and at that moment, even though it was nothing more than imagination, the power she felt in her right hand, the sheer justice driving her index finger as it curled around an imaginary trigger, felt so compulsive, so compelling and overwhelming, that it scared her. As if the headache promised that the only moment it'd ever be quiet, no matter how briefly, would be if she pulled that trigger. It was at the same time terrifying and empowering.

She shook the feeling off. First thing she'd have to do was find a way into Vegas, onto the Strip. Apparently you needed some sort of pass to get in. She hoped it'd be just a formality, but you never knew with those things. There were a few people in the streets, most minding their own business, except two children, who were running seemingly in a random pattern to through the streets, the boy holding a short club and the girl wielding a kitchen knife.

"So uh, Leza, who'd we need to see for that pass?"

Watkins had been silently looking out at the ruin the whole time, and didn't reply now either. Looked like she was going to be childish about the whole thing. Repressing a sigh, En said, "Leza, I'm not mad at you. I know you were only trying to be nice."

The blonde looked at the ground and dug the tip of her foot into the dirt. "It's okay. Place called Mike and Rolf's."

"Come on, Leza, don't be that way." En supposed she'd have to say it. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, okay? It's been long days and everyone's real tired, and stuff like that, you know, happens, right?" Oh how she hated apologizing. Everyone else had fallen silent, most likely feeling awkward.

Leza's one eye briefly went up, then down again. "Yeah, sure. Doesn't matter."

Oh, she really was gonna go all the way, was she? Ugh, drama queen. "Leza, I said I was sorry, didn't I? You want me to get on my knees and beg forgiveness? I was tired and not feeling right, okay?" And because she knew that was what people always wanted to hear in such situations, she said, "But I know you were trying to help and I shouldn't have been nasty to you. Okay, Leza? I'm glad you're looking out for me." It was stretching the truth, because to be honest, Leza needed them much more than En needed her, but usually, sulking people could be brought right around by some expressions of gratitude.

"Yeah, it's okay. Guess it wasn't my business anyway."

"No. But I appreciate you looking out for me." Not really, she just wanted everyone to butt out of her private affairs, but let them have their illusions. "Thanks."

"It's fine, Ennie. Let's forget about it, okay?"

"Be happy to." Now all she had to do was give the woman an hour or two to put it behind her, and the awkwardness would be averted. Sometimes she felt like the only adult.

"Now that the melodrama's done," Melissa said, "Let's go find that Mike and whatever place, yeah?"

"Just a sec," En said, taking her rifle off her back and lifting it in the direction of the two running children. Peering through she scope, she saw the children magnified, and what they were chasing: a small furry creature that skittered around faster than they could follow.

"Miss En," Ringo pointed out, "now's not really the moment to be brandishing firearms."

"Wouldn't it be right hilarious if she shot one of those little ankle-biters by accident?" Melissa remarked.

"Uh, sweetie, why are you aiming at those children?" En heard Sunny ask behind her, followed by a chortle from Melissa. "Señorita, you really need a pair of glasses."

En followed the critter's erratic movements with her scope, and taking care to aim well away from the two children, she tried to predict the thing's location and pulled the trigger, her rifle making a loud _bang_. Sure enough, a spray of blood was knocked out of the little furball and it was lifted into the air, made a somersault, and flopped back down on the cracked pavement.

The two children whooped and fell on their slain quarry, the girl immediately sticking her knife inside the oversized rat and tearing open its abdomen to gut it. The boy raised his hand and shouted, "Thanks, lady!"

"It's cool. Uh, enjoy your rat?"

"We will! Boy, we are _so_ hungry!"

"Hey by the way," Sunny called to them. "You know where we can find a place called Mike and Rolf's?"

The children stopped for a moment, looking at each other questioningly. Then, after a few moments of thinking, the girl hollered, "Oh! You mean _Mick_ and _Ralph's_? That's 'round the corner there, then second street on the left."

"Thanks!"

The children didn't shout back, all their attention back on the big rat and its gutting.

"Kids eatin' rat," Meyers sighed. "World's a damn shitty place if you think about it."

Melissa stuck to a neutral, "It is what it is."

Mick and Ralph's was open for business, a yellowed sign on the door read. Good. Looking in through the window, it appeared like a pretty normal shop, its shelves and counters stacked with all kinds of odds and ends, most completely and utterly useless, even for the undiscerning gentleman. They'd found the shop pretty easily, following the children's directions, and the building itself was easily identified, a large neon panel had been mix-and-matched together from other signs, the letters saying "Mick & Ralph's", every letter in another typeface and colour. Well, technically it said "Mick & Raiph's," since apparently they'd never found an L and had needed to swap it for an I, but beggars couldn't be choosers, it would seem.

"Let's not all barge in there," Sunny said when En reached for the door. "You go, sweetie, we'll go get a drink at the little stand over there.

"I'll come with," Meyers said to En. "I could really use some better clothes. Yeah, true, the guy had been walking around in his prisoner get-up. He'd torn the tags and markers off, but still, he could keep traipsing around like that, stetson hat or no. "Just a shirt and a pair of jeans would do."

"Yeah, sure, guess it's high time you got a decent outfit."

As the others crossed the street, a man walked past them dressed in a leather perfecto jacket, his hair styled into a greasy crest. As he noticed Watkins, he whistled between his teeth and asked in a low, sensuous voice, "Are you lonesome tonight?" Without waiting for the answer, he walked on, popping his collar. On the back of his jacket was a white crown and the logo KINGS.

"Alright then," Melissa could only say.

"Come on, little lady, let's find out if we can't get a pass into New Vegas, shall we?"

Hoping for the best, En pushed the door open.

The man behind the counter greeted them with the probably standard line of, "Hey there, welcome to Mick and Ralph's, the place for all your shopping needs."

Another man was sweeping between the tables and muttered without looking up, "Welcome to Ralph and Mick's."

It was immediately clear which one Mick was and which one Ralph.

"Uh, hi," En said. "We were told you could help us get a pass f – ungh!" Meyes prodded his elbow into her ribcage.

"We were lookin' for a new outfit for me," Meyers took over as En stood wondering why he'd shut her up. "As you can see, these rags aren't very suitable for travellin'."

The man behind the counter – Mick, apparently – frowned suspiciously for a moment, but then said, "I see. Clothes are over here, have a look. If there's anything you need, you just holler."

"Appreciate it."

Meyers gently took her by the elbow and led her to the clothes rack. "Let's just concentrate on clothes for now."

"I'm not a child," En hissed. "Why'd you elbow me?"

He shot a quick look to the two proprietors to make sure they were out of earshot, and then quietly said, "Because you can't just walk into a store and ask for illegal stuff. Believe me, first thing they think is that you're a cop. You need to approach it subtly. Like this, watch." He raised his voice again and asked the store owner, "Esteemed storekeep, could I ask for your assistance?"

Mick frowned at the odd vocabulary of the question, but then came from behind the counter. "Certainly. What were you looking for?"

Stroking his beard with one hand, and gesticulating to the clothes rack with the other, Meyers said, "I was thinking of a nice pair of blue jeans, and an earthen coloured shirt, maybe?"

"Of course. Jeans are right here." He laid his hand on a pile of, indeed, jeans. "What's your size?"  
>Meyers and the store owner talked about jeans and shirts for a while, the owner presenting him several shirts until Meyers settled on a light beige one. All the while, Meyers made small talk with the man, seeming to gain his trust. Okay, so maybe En had been too direct. Still, prodding her in the side had been a humiliating thing to do.<p>

"Will your granddaughter be requiring anything, mr. Meyers?"

This got a chuckle out of both En and Meyers. "Granddaughter?" En laughed. "I'm too pretty to look like family of _his_."

Grinning, Meyers said, "The little lady here isn't my granddaughter. If she was, I'd be putting her over my knee for those big mouth remarks."

"Ah. Well. None of my business, I suppose." The man looked suddenly very uncomfortable, and after a second or two, En realized why.

"Whoa, hey," she protested hastily. "It's nothing like _that. _I'm not his... ummm, you know."

"It's... none of my business, really."

Meyers chuckled again and lied, "She's the fiancée of my stepson. He lives on the Strip. But um, we don't have a pass, and he runs a bar there, so he can't leave."

Ooh, nicely improvised, En had to admit.

"I see," the store owner said, then fell silent, gauging them. En did her best to look as innocent as possible. "I think I might be able to help you. At least, my brother might be." He nudged his head toward the erstwhile sweeping man, who was now making notes into a ledger. He had the same swept-back hairstyle as Mick, who was obviously his brother, but this one had a soul patch on his chin as well. "Ralph, these people have a special order."

The other man stuck his pencil behind his ear and rose. "They on the up-and-up?"

"Yeah, gotta get in for personal reasons."

"Right, follow me."

Soul patch led them into a back room, pulling a clothes hanger to reveal a hidden door. Behind it was a small, secret part of the shop, its walls lined with clubs, machetes, chems, and even the occasional firearm. In the corner stood a computer, and next to it, a box of blank swipe cards. "Just you two?"

"Uh... how much is it for one pass card?" En asked.

"A hundred a piece. I don't ask questions, but I get paid in advance."

"M-hm," Meyers said. "How long does it take to make one?"

Ralph shrugged. "Not that long. Say, an hour or two."

"Six hundred," En sighed. "Where are we gonna raise that kind of money?"

At that Meyers set his teeth, making an irritated face, and a moment later, the storekeep shooed them out, letting the door mechanism close again. "You don't have money, you get no passes. Come back when you somehow raise the caps you need, until then, keep buying clothes from my brother."

When they were back in the street, Meyers only said, "_Girl_…" The anger contained in that one word was not inconsiderable.

Guess she'd blown that one. Still, he shouldn't have jabbed her in the ribs like that. "What, it's not like we had the money, is it?"

"No," Meyers grunted, "but you need to be subtle about these things. I'm grateful for bustin' me out of the can, but you need to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut some times."

"Leave me alone." It was out before she knew it.

"Fine. The damage is done, and after all, it's your search you're screwin' up, not mine."

"Hey, you gonna start riding me too now? I've got enough on my mind without you guys kicking me for every mistake."

Meyers stuffed his pants in his pockets and sighed. "Guess you got a point. Young people have a right to make mistakes."

It was hideously condescending, but En was actually prepared to let that slide if it meant putting the lid on yet another conflict. What as with people these days. Everyone was acting childish, and it was getting damn tiring being the only rational and mature person around. Was that how everyone was in the Wastes, because damn, it was getting old really fast. "Look, I'm just really exhausted, okay? I don't feel like fighting." It felt like surrendering, like throwing the towel in, but it was the truth too. She really was too exhausted to bicker. Her head felt like there was a sledgehammer pounding it.

"You gonna be okay?" Meyers asked, suddenly looking worried. "You're goin' gray a bit there."

Even though she felt like shit, En managed to squeeze out a joke, "It's just one or two hairs, not like you, sheriff."

"Ha! If you're jokin' it means you're alright."

"Whoa, I'm not," En managed to slur before she lost her balance, the pounding in her head turning to a hard smashing that was of such intensity that all the strength was hammered out of her legs and she fell down, not even knowing where down was. Vaguely, she registered Meyers' bony fingers wrapping around her upper arms.

"What do I do, hun?" she heard him ask, far away, almost inaudible above the shrieking in her ears.

She said nothing – couldn't – and let him lower her gently to the ground, her head coming to rest on the bundle of clothes Meyers had bought. She lay there for a few seconds that felt like minutes, then the pain became less again. The urge to cry rose up inside her, incredibly strong and overpowering, but somehow she fought it back and clawed at the air, trying to sit up straight.

"You okay sweetie?" Figured Sunny would be the first to rush over to her when she saw her go down. It was sweet in a way, but yet also somehow worrying. Something warm and wet was moving rhythmically over her hand. Cheyenne's tongue.

"I'm… alright. Ugh, these attacks are killing me." And again, at that moment, that overwhelming feeling of hatred came over her again. That bastard in his checkered suit had damned her for fucking life, and for what? She'd be having these seizures for the rest of her days, and she didn't even know why. She didn't realize, but her hands hooked themselves into claws and her teeth clenched harder than they probably could voluntarily, making the headache grow stronger again. Her breathing had become a rhythmic, panting growl.

"Ennie, Ennie, hey, calm down?" Watkins' stupid nasal voice said. _Don't tell me to fucking calm down you stupid bimbo! _Stupid needy bitch Sunny and stupid ditzy slut Watkins and stupid old condescending fossil Meyers and stupid stuffy jerk-off Ringo and stupid _fucking accomplice man-bitch Melissa_!

"Oi, jillaroo, this kinda thing's not healthy for ya."

The overwhelming rage slowly subsided again, her breathing turning back to a normal panting and her muscles slowly relaxing at first, then starting to shake. She had absolutely no control over what was happening. What the Hell _had_ just happened? The rage vanished and made place for a deeply chilling feeling of fear and disorientation.

Ringo sat kneeled in front of her. "Whatever that was, miss En, it's quite worrying."

"I c-c-can't st-stop sh-shaking," she managed to stammer. It was searing hot around her, but she felt ice cold inside.

Ringo nodded. "Post-adrenaline shakes. Breathe in and out, slowly. Close your eyes."

She did so, trying her hardest to get her breathing under control, and the tremor slowly became less intense. God damnit what had just happened. She couldn't even recall how the rage felt just moments ago. She'd thought horrible things about everyone, she knew that much, but when she tried to actually remember how it had felt, the memories eluded her, becoming vague and indecipherable.

"Hey, you wanna pitch a fit somewhere else?" the voice of Ralph the Soul Patch came from the doorway. "This is a store, not an emergency r –" Melissa promptly and wordlessly grabbed him by the side of his head, twisting the handful of hair so he slowly went to one knee, his face wrenched into a grimace. "Ow, ow, ow, hey god _dammit_!"

"Muh… Melissa…" En stammered weakly. "Don't. Please."

Melissa's eyes went to En, then back to Ralph, to En, and then to Ralph again, and then she roughly let the hair go, shoving the man down as she did so.

"We need to get you to a doctor, sweetie," Sunny said, holding En's hand. "This just keeps getting worse and worse. What was that doctor's name again?" she asked Ringo.

"Usanagi. You're right, we should go see her. Well, miss En at least. It's near here, near my caravan office. Not sure where though."

"Oi, peddler," Melissa commanded Ralph, who was clambering to his feet. "Doctor Usathing's office. Where is it?"

"Leave Freeside, head north to the Crimson Caravan. Can't miss it."

"Thanks," Melissa said, doing her best to sound as sarcastically friendly as possible. Ralph only went back into his store and gave her a grunted "Ugly bitch" under his breath in return.

"I'm ugly, but I'm great in bed," Melissa said to the now-closed door.

Ringo and Sunny, meanwhile, helped En back up to her feet. Much as she hated to admit it, she'd have to see that doctor Usa…whatever, because it really was getting worse.

After a few shaky steps, she succeeded in walking more or less normally, though she was still shaking from the adrenaline rush.

They left Freeside through the double gate again, and headed North.

"Should've let me give that mongrel a good drubbin'," Melissa told En as they walked.

"We still need him. He's the guy that makes the passes."

Melissa grinned at that. "I thought blondie was the one who made passes at everyone?"

"Um, for your information, Melissa," Watkins butted in after hearing the remark had been about her, "it's the guys who hit on me, not the other way around? You know, I'm just that hot?"

With a chortle, Melissa told her to, "Go practice your wiles on the sheriff, blondie, they don't work on me."

"Bah. You have, like, no taste?"

In front of them, Sunny and Ringo walked and chatted, Cheyenne trotting along beside them. En couldn't understand why she'd thought such rotten things about them, but it was something that needed to be looked at, as much as she hated going to the doctor. Meyers, meanwhile, was walking and reading his book at the same time. He was almost done with it, only having a small amount of pages still to go through.

"There it is, I think," Ringo called out, pointing at a bungalow with a green emblem painted on the side, of two snakes curling around a staff. The old pre-war logo for a doctor's office, En seemed to remember. Most simply used the red cross nowadays, but not this one. The word CLINIC was painted above the door.

"Right, sweetie. We'll wait outside," Sunny said as they all stood in front of the entrance to the clinic.

"I… kinda don't wanna go," En said quietly.

With a nod, Ringo told her, "We understand. But it's imperative that you receive medical attention for your condition, and not just from an old army medic."

Yeah, good old Doc Mitchell. He'd scrapped for her life, that much was certain, but like he'd said himself, there was only so much he could do. This usa…thinga doctor was apparently an expert, so maybe she'd be able to help the paroxysms.

The bungalow loomed over her like an enormous evil entity ready to swallow her with its door. And it wasn't even that tall a building. She looked back at the others one last time, and then opened the door.

"Good afternoon. The doctor will be right with you." Behind a reception desk sat a man in his fifties, arranging papers into a filing cabinet. There was a computer on the desk that looked as modern as the ones in New Arroyo, and the reception was neatly kept clean, and the furniture, though worn like everything else in the Wastes, was well maintained and carefully arranged. "Your name, please?"

"Uh, En. Tessara. En Tessara."

The receptionist noted her name, and even from where she was standing, En could see he was making the old mistake. "Uh, it's um… not Anne. It's En. Ee-en."

The man looked up at her over his round glasses and blinked. "Ee-en? Just like that? Two letters?"

"Uh… yeah. And it's not short for anything. Just En."

"Not a name you hear often," the man said, though not unfriendly.

"Yeah. I know. Tessara, double 's', one 'r'."

He struck out 'Anne' and wrote her name right, then smiled at her. "You can have yourself a seat right there, my dear."

"Thanks."

En gingerly sat down on one of the couches. There were magazines strewn in a purposely haphazard manner on the low table between the couches, called 'Locksmith's Reader' and 'Programmer's Digest' and 'Fixin' Things', and of course one called 'Today's Physician'. The date on the cover was May 2013, which made the magazine's name rather funny. En picked up the 'Fixin' Things' magazine and flipped through the pages. It was mostly adverts for tools from before the war, mixed with articles on how to fix televisions and radios and all other mechanical and electrical devices. Interesting, sure, but it wasn't like she'd read it and suddenly become magically better at repairing things. Still, a few pointers here and there were useful, and she made a few mental notes of things that might come in handy some day.

Voices swelled behind the door with the 'DOCTOR'S OFFICE' plate on it, and a moment later, the door opened, an Asian-looking woman in her thirties giving a small white box to a ghoul and saying, "Take these regularly, they _should_ help with the discomfort for now, and we'll see what the steroid cream does in a month or two, okay?"

In the hoarse voice all ghouls had, the patient replied with an embarrassed thank-you and took the box.

"Right," the doctor said, her eyes going to En. "Next?"

Scraping her throat nervously, En put the magazine back on the table and stood up. The doctor smiled at her and held out her hand. "No need to be nervous, dear, come on in and tell me what the matter is." On her white coat was a strange emblem she'd never seen before, a black slender cross in a black circle.

Even though it was ninety-nine percent likely to be the doctor she was looking for, En still asked, "Um… doctor Usa… ummm, Usa… gi?" Dang it, the name was hard to remember.

The woman laughed, a clear and pleasant sounding laugh, and then said, "Yes, that's me. Well, almost. I'm doctor Usa_na_gi." And with a glint in her eye, she added, "Unless you were looking for doctor bunny-rabbit?"

"Doctor b…? Uh, no."

"Well, let's see how I can help you. Have a seat." She tapped a few keys. "En Tessara, is it?"

"Uh… yeah." En sat down on the chair in front of the doctor's desk. It was a modern practice, in some ways even more than doctor Brannigan's in New Arroyo. The equipment looked state-of-the-art and well maintained. It wasn't Brotherhood-type technology (at least from what she'd heard of the Brotherhood's tech), but it looked a lot like the practices she'd seen on pre-War photos. An Auto-Doc stood in one corner, newer than any model she'd ever seen.

"Go on, sit up straight, don't be shy, I'm listening."

En hadn't noticed she'd been sitting in a slumped position and forced herself to straighten her shoulders. "I um…" she turned her head to show the scar. "I had an accident. And it's… well, it gives me these strange seizures.

"Accident?" Usanagi asked gently. "Looks more like a gunshot to me. I can practically see where the bullet tore your scalp away."

"Yeah."

Usanagi stood up and motioned her to sit on the exam table. "I don't ask questions, but at your age, it's a bit worrying to see you come in with such a head wound. If you need help getting out of the criminal life, don't hesitate to ask, okay?"

"No, no," En said, sitting down on the table. "It's nothing like that. I was delivering a package and I was robbed."

The doctor gently placed her thumbs on the scarred patch on En's head and stuck to a neutral, "I see." After gently applying pressure, she asked, "Who fixed this? Looks a bit amateuristic, if I may say so."

"Doc Mitchell, in Goodsprings." She winced as Usanagi applied harder pressure. "Old army doctor. Not really his specialty, I guess."

"How is old mole-butt?"

Huh. She knew the man, including his nickname. "Uh… he was fine last I checked."

"Well, he's a wonderful man and a great army medic, but he fixes skull trauma like he makes coffee." With a pensive face, she pressed on the side of En's skull again. "Definitely didn't heal well. Too late to do much about it now, though."

Her heart sank. "That… wasn't what I was hoping to hear."

"I can imagine. Let's stick you in the Auto-doc for a second to get a brain scan."

Ergh, getting stuck in the Auto-doc. Wasn't really En's idea of fun, trapped in a steel tube. Still if it had to be done…

"Can you just take your jacket and boots off?"

She draped her heavy leather jacket on the back of the chair, undid her bootlaces and kicked them off, and stepped to the Auto-doc, which swivelled into a horizontal position.

"No metal in your brassiere?" Usanagi asked, punching keys on the control panel.

"Uh… with _these_?"

"Mm?"

"They're uh… not exactly double E's."

Still tapping keys, Usanagi simply said, "Smaller stays firm longer. You can lie down in the Auto-doc, dear."

En did so, and the lid slid closed. It felt like a steel coffin and the feeling actually physically constricted her chest. There were a few high-pitched whines that went around her head, and the lid opened again.

"That's it, all done."

Whew, that was fast. She clambered out of the Auto-Doc as doctor Usanagi went back to her desk. She sat down and made a few mouse clicks. "Let's see…"

Her screen was angled so En could see what was on it, but all she saw were blue, green and red blotches with some black here and there. "Um… what are we looking at?"

Surprised, but in a pleasant way, Usanagi said, "Your brain, dear. See, there's your skull," she pointed at the black rind around the red, green and blue blotches. "That's the front, you can see your teeth there." Indeed, there were a few black dots set into a black, vaguely discernible jaw.

Whoa, she was actually looking at her own skull. It felt weird, but it was in a way reassuring to see for herself that the inside of her head was more or less the same as everyone else's.

"Those are your two central incisors. Easy to make out in your case."

Yeah, easy to make out indeed, since her two upper front teeth angled rather noticeably inward when the other incisors did not. She didn't like the look of it much, but one or two guys had assured her it was cute. The rest had either never noticed or never mentioned it.

"There seems to be some damage," Usanagi muttered, stroking her lower lip. "But nothing terrible."

En could only sit quietly and wait as the multicoloured blobs were cycled on the screen. At length doctor Usanagi closed the window and said, "Well, I'm afraid all I can do is give you some analgesics for the headaches." After thinking for a moment, she added, "I'll give you some anti-depressants too. Not for their primary effect, but they've shown to be helpful against seizures too."

"Anti-depressants?" En asked miserably. The word itself felt like a brand of shame. Only losers needed anti-depressants. "I don't need happy pills, doctor."

Smiling, Usanagi said, "They're not happy pills. That's not how anti-depressants work. If you don't have hormonal depression, they simply won't do a thing. And if you _do_ have hormonal depression, they won't make you feel happy, they'll simply keep you from being miserable for no reason."

"Still, it sounds so humiliating. Anti-depressants. Like I'm some kind of self-pitying crybaby."

"It's not like that," she said firmly. "There is nothing shameful about taking anti-depressants, even if you are depressed. And you're not, you're taking them for a different reason. I'll put you on a light one, and we'll see if it helps."

"But – "

"No protest, dear. You're here to be helped, then let me help you." She stood up and took a box from one cabinet, then one from another, putting them on the desk in front of En. "Analgesic, take one before every meal, they work for a pretty long time, should dull the headaches." She pointed to the other one. "Anti-depressant to suppress the seizures, take one every morning. Nobody needs to know if it's something you don't feel comfortable with."

With a resigned sigh, En took the pill boxes and stuffed them in her jacket pocket. "Thanks, I guess." She realized it wasn't fair to sound so sullen. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you doctor, I mean it."

With a warm smile, Usanagi rose and walked En to the door. "That's quite alright, dear. I really hope the medication helps. Have a great day, and be safe." She held the door open.

Wait, she was just going to show her out? Wasn't she forgetting something? "Uh, shouldn't I pay you?"

Another smile from the doctor, and one from the assistant. "No paying in this corner of the Wastes, dear."

"But… you can't be doing this for free?"

She nodded. "I am. We're Followers of the Apocalypse. We help people where we can, how we can. No charge."

"How… strange."

"It's only strange if you forget that people who help each other, build a much better world," she said gently. "Bye dear, take care of yourself."

"Thank you so much, doctor." Damn, this was an unexpected stroke of luck!

"Don't mention it."

"Did you tell her everything?" Sunny's voice came from one of the sofas, taking En by surprise. She was sitting there, a closed copy of some survival magazine in her lap. En hadn't even noticed her until she'd spoken.

"I, uh… yeah, why?"

"The headaches, the seizures, everything?" Sunny asked. She was up to something, En could tell from the tone in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, Sunny, all of it, why?"

Looking at her nails nonchalantly, Sunny interrupted, "Everything? _Really_ everything?"

"_Yes_, Sunny, _everything_."

"Miss… Sunny, is it?" the doctor asked, "I'm not sure what the idea is here. I'm sure miss Tessara will bring any matters to my attention she feels necessary."

Crossing her arms, En added, "Yeah."

She could see that Sunny was undecided, trying to make up her mind whether or not to say something or keep her mouth shut. _Keep quiet Sunny, for fuck's sake keep quiet I know you mean well but I am _not_ gonna appreciate it if you play mommy now although I don't know if you even know and you can't know because I haven't told you or anyone but still I know you know and I don't want you to say it so Sunny shut the Hell up!_

Sunny did open her mouth though, and her eyes were almost pleading. "Sweetie, if there's anything you want to tell the doctor, you have the chance now. If we leave, you might not be able to for a long while." She paused and then asked, "Are you _sure_ there's nothing you want to talk about?"

Yes, there was. There was the shrieking burning sensation when she peed, the constant itching, the worry that this might never go away, that it would be a cracked, inflamed red wasteland down there, oozing with white discharge and bleeding sores, and that she needed a doctor to see what was wrong and treat her for it. Sunny was right. She needed to speak up, she needed to speak up _now_.

She looked at Usanagi, who stood waiting, her head cocked. Say it, dammit. _Doctor, I need you to take a look at something_, that's all you have to say. Come on, show some balls and show your vag. She's a doctor, she doesn't mind or doesn't care. So just say it. Say it!

"… No, I'm fine."

You gutless loser!

Sunny sighed and looked resigned. "Fine, let's just go then. I tried."

Cheyenne leapt up against Sunny when they came back out, and Sunny, barely perceptibly, gave her head a quick shake at Melissa, taking care that Watkins had seen it too. They thought En hadn't noticed, but she had. They knew. They fucking knew, oh no. A red hot burning feeling sank from her chest into her bowels and she didn't dare look up. They all knew she had a problem down there. Probably told Ringo and Meyers too. Everyone knew. Sunny might be able to keep quiet, and Melissa too. But no way Watkins would keep it to herself. The confrontation in the bathroom this morning made sense now. Fuck, god dammit.

But… if she just pretended nothing was going on, they'd forget about it. Right? Ignore it and it'll go away. Right, so that was what she had to do. Put your carefree face on, En. Taking a quick breath, she forced a smile back on her face and said, "So, doctor gave me these for the pain and the seizures." She only held the analgesic pack, the anti-depressants (another thing to be ashamed about) were hidden in her jacket pocket. "Says they'll help."

"What, just painkillers?" Ringo asked sceptically. "They won't help with the seizures."

En shrugged. "Doctor said they would." Stop insisting, dammit! Stop pushing!

"They're painkillers, miss En, not seizure repressants."

"Look, who's the doctor? You or her?" she snapped. She was getting really tired of everyone prying into her business.

Thankfully, Ringo spread his palms and let it go. "You're right. Forgive me."

"Can we please _go_?"

"Yeah, we probably should," Melissa said. "Look for some job opportunities or somethin'."

At least someone wasn't being a nosy meddler.

"Speaking of job opportunities…" Meyers said quietly. "I think these people aren't here for tea and scones."

Marching down the road came several strangely dressed people. Though 'strangely dressed' wasn't the right way to describe them. They looked like bad news, dressed in their frayed and shredded jeans or leather pants and the typical gangbanger jackets. What wasn't typical gangbanger were the things they wore on their heads. They looked like horned animal skulls. Bighorner? Or brahmin bull? Weird in any case. En reflexively moved to unsling her rifle, but Ringo gestured for her not to.

"Fiends," he said quietly. "Don't provoke them."

"Think they're just passing through?" Sunny asked.

"_Fiends_?" Melissa chortled. "Passing through when there's a clinic here? Poor naïve Sunny."

"What? What's so weird about that?"

"Fiends are drug addicts, most of them psychotic," Ringo explained patiently. "They're here for one thing only."

"So um, is this our business?" Watkins asked.

After a moment of silence, Meyers said, "Damn straight it's our business. Those assholes are takin' a hike or we're blowin' them all to kingdom come."

Right, looked like it was decided, even though En really wasn't all that keen on facing up to a bunch of chem addicts. "Uh yeah… that doctor treated me for free, so no way we can let these guys rob her." Might as well not be a chicken about it.

Melissa went to stand next to Ringo, taking out the P90. "Get some distance, jillaroo. You're worthless close up."

Gee, thanks. But Melissa was right. She turned to run toward a nearby cluster of rocks, when Meyers told Watkins, "You too, Leza. Your laser pistol's good at range. Stay with En. If things go rotten, then run."

"Um, I'm not sure if – " Watkins began to protest, but Meyers cut her off. "I mean it, Leza. Do it for me?"

When Leza still hesitated, En took her by the elbow. "Come on, we need to get going."

Leza resisted only briefly, and then she ran with En toward the rock cluster. They huddled behind it, positioned so that they'd be on the side of the confrontation rather than behind it – in which case En's friends would block a clear shot – or in front if it – in which case they might hit a friend if they missed or En's bullet went through its target.

"It… doesn't feel right sitting here, like at a distance?" Watkins remarked. "… but I'm kinda glad I am."

"Yeah," En agreed. "It feels a bit like abandoning them, but Melissa's right. At close range I pee my pants instead of being any use. Not fun admitting it, but it's true."

"I just… haven't had much experience with this, y'know?"

"Mhm. Now shh, they're almost there."

Her teeth clenched and her breath held, En watched, first without her scope, and then with, as the Fiends noticed her friends standing in front of the clinic, exchanged a few words and glances, and moved up to them as intimidatingly as possible. Her heart began to beat hard in her chest, and her headache swelled with every beat.


	30. Place Your Bets

**.**

**THIRTY**

**In front of the Clinic**

**July 6th**

**16:28**

"You know, I was kinda set on not being sent away for the fighting because it makes me feel like they don't want me getting in the way and all?" Watkins said, sitting huddled behind the rocks next to En. "But to be honest, maybe it's for the best. I'd probably screw things up anyway?"

"M-hm."

"Still feels like I'm getting benched, you know?"

"Everyone has a job to do, Leza," En said, peering through her scope. "Ours is to provide cover from a distance. It's not exactly heroic, but everyone's got to do what they do best. Now shh."

Thankfully, Watkins shut her pie hole. This wasn't the time to be chit-chatting about personal validation. En's head hurt and the tension didn't help, so if Watkins was gonna chatter away now, the migraine party would be complete.

In her scope, she saw the gangbangers strut lazily up to her friends. Seven of the assholes, four of her friends. It seemed an uneven fight, if you didn't count the two support units hidden nearby. Well, one and a half, because Watkins didn't really count for much with that laser pistol and that questionable aim of hers. The reason Meyers had told her to stay with En was simply because she'd get herself killed if she stayed at the front line. The good sheriff probably didn't want to see the goods get damaged.

The Fiends came to stand in front of En's group, the one in front nudging his head at them while saying something, and looking pretty aggressive doing it. Ringo replied something, not backing down, Meyers ostentatiously patting the Ruger at his belt. Melissa had her P90 out already, and Sunny was making extra effort to show that Cheyenne was eager to set her teeth into some Fiend forearm. Though En wondered if it might not be bad for the dog, if those whack-jobs shot so much drugs into their veins.

The leader of the Fiends said something, pointing a threatening finger at her friends. En's mouth went dry.

"Oh man, looks like that's totally not gonna end well?" Watkins whined.

"Leza, _shh_!" En hissed. "I'm trying to concentrate." God dammit, why didn't she shut her trap? Having to snipe was tough enough without the nasal valley girl voice of Watkins in her ear.

"Um, sorry?"

There are three types of 'sorry' in the world. One's the 'sorry' you give when genuinely (or falsely) apologizing for something. The second's the one you give when you just want the other guy to shut up. 'Sorry I brought it up'. And third is that one 'sorry', the most rotten of all, the one you say when you feel completely indignant and want the other person to know _they_ should be the one apologizing. And this was the 'sorry' Watkins gave her now. That passive-aggressive one, used to make someone feel guilty through a combination of outright accusation, and that self-pitying submissiveness that was the strongest weapon in the emotional blackmailer's arsenal.

"I need to _concentrate_, Leza," En snapped at her, trying to attribute her tone to the importance of her job rather than her personal annoyance.

"Right, sorry." This was, thankfully, the first and least rage-inducing kind of 'sorry'.

En focused on what she saw through her scope again, the Fiends striking an intimidating pose, doubtless making all kinds of threats.

And then, in a flash, it began.

"Get the fuck out of the way, we got business here," the Fiend leader commanded.

"Your kind of business shall not be tolerated. Not today," Ringo said flatly. Next to him, Cheyenne half-panted, half-growled on her leash. Ringo knew Sunny could make the dog go into an aggressive state with the right combination of tugs at her leash. On his other side, Meyers made sure they saw him patting the Ruger in his belt. It was a bit of a laughable sight, an aged sheriff trying to impress with a peashooter like that, but hopefully, the bastards knew that not impressive didn't mean any less deadly.

"You pussies should know better than to get between a Fiend and his chems," the alpha junk threatened, jabbing a finger at Ringo. "So either you piss off right now, or you're fucking dead." His cronies joined in, their hands going to their weapons, adding all kinds of threats to their leader's. And when the first weapon was drawn, they all came out, one of the Fiends pulling the knife at his belt, and everyone else drawing or raising their weapons an instant later.

Melissa let rip with a salvo, expending the last of the P90's ammunition, catching the knife-wielding Fiend in the chest, the impacts sending him into a death dance. The Fiend leader swung his spiked club at Ringo, who parried the blow and attempted to bring his Sig up, only to have the Fiend catch his wrist before he could bring the pistol to bear. Meyers fired from the hip, striking a female Fiend in the face, smashing her lower jaw apart, and Cheyenne leapt up, going for the throat of one of the chem jockeys, but setting her teeth into the man's forearm instead as he brought it up to ward off the dog. Sunny pulled the trigger of her pistol to fire at the addict next to Cheyenne's target, but she only heard a dry _click_.

As Melissa's salvo ended in another dry _click_, one of the gangbangers body-slammed into her, the impact sending them both to the ground. Meyers managed to get another shot off, looking like an honest-to-God gunslinger firing from the hip, and hit another junk in the roof of the mouth, blowing his brains out the back of his head. The last of the chem-fiends took out a large revolver, but the sheer dramatic exaggeration of the gesture was his undoing. A loud _bang_ sounded in the distance and a bullet struck him in the side of the ribcage, tore through his torso, and exited out the other side, smashing out blood and tissue with it. A bright pink laser zap flashed through the air, ending harmlessly in the sand. Sunny's opponent sidestepped his fellow shit-for-brains locked with Cheyenne, and after a quick feint, whacked her in the face with a right hook before she could take her weapon out.

Melissa and the other Fiend were on the ground, raining blows on each other, Ringo took a hard head-butt to the nose, Meyers dropped the punk locked with Cheyenne, another laser beam zapped harmlessly into the sand, and Sunny staggered back from the punch, only to get her feet kicked out from under her. The next moment, another _bang_ went through the air and Sunny's assailant was struck in the shoulder, blowing it open and knocking him to the ground. Meyers spun toward Ringo and his opponent, but before he could fire, another pink laser beam crackled through the air and struck him in the right calf, the leg giving out as the searing hot beam tore through the tissue. Ringo's attacker stood over him, his spiked club lifted above his head, determined to smash Ringo's skull to mush, but just before the built-up tension in his body released, another _bang_ sounded and the top of his head was blown off. With a surprised, vacant look on his face, the Fiend stood for a few more seconds, then fell over, hitting the ground the same moment Sunny came to her knees and thrust her knife into the throat of the addict with the destroyed shoulder. Melissa, finally, ended the life of her enemy by hooking her elbow around his head and giving a hard jerk to the side, snapping his neck.

En saw Melissa getting the last of the Fiends in a wrestling hold that was either extremely deadly, or extremely passionate, and after she saw Melissa break the other's neck, it was pretty clear which one it was. It was the last of them, which was confirmed by Melissa getting to her knees and holding her arms up to En's scope in a victory pose.

As En lowered her weapon and made to climb over the rock cluster they'd been hiding behind, she noticed Watkins sitting kneeled, her weapon lowered, and a slack face.

"Leza?"

Her mouth moved, a bit, but nothing came out.

"Hey, Leza, you okay?"

"I shuh… shot Meyers. Oh God, I shot Meyers?"

En didn't know if it was true (the friendly fire had occurred outside of her scope), but regardless, no point sitting there, paralytic. "Come on, I don't know about that, but if you did, we gotta go see."

Watkins looked up at her with a mortified face. "I… I don't wanna go."

"Leza, come on. Accidents happen."

Sullenly, the blonde bombshell shook her head, holding the laser pistol against her chest as if it was a child that had to be cradled. "No, I… I'm staying here." Then she whined, "Oh God."

No time to babysit this wet blanket now. En ignored her and hopped over the rocks, running towards her friends. "Everyone alright?"

Her face bloody, Melissa grinned her teeth bare, "That was a right piss-up!"

Ringo lay sprawled on the ground, blood running from his nose and spreading on the sand. Sunny sat over him, trying to stop the bleeding with a handkerchief, the white fabric completely soaked red. Meyers sat on his ass, twisting his leg to see how bad the injury was, and wincing every time he moved. "That's a laser hit," he said gravely. "_Someone_shot me with a laser pistol." His face looked dead serious, like a teacher scolding his student. "Only one person in a three-mile radius carries a _laser pistol_."

"I know," En could only say. "She's sorry. I think." Yep, friendly fire indeed. Silly ditz.

Still looking seriously irritated, Meyers said, "She had better be." The wound to his leg looked to be mostly a flesh wound, cauterized by the laser's heat.

"Ringo alright?"

"I think his nose is broken," Sunny said with a small voice. She sounded both worried and in pain.

"And you?"

Holding back tears, Sunny looked up at En. "He kicked my legs. They… hurt a lot."

All En could say to that was, "Sorry."

"No need to fret," Melissa pointed out, coming to stand next to En, "No worries. That doctor can patch you all up. Least she can do. C'mon, let's go get her," she told En.

Yeah, true, Usanagi would be nice enough to help them all out. Hopefully.

The top of the assistant's head briefly appeared above the counter he's been hiding behind, then he breathed a sigh of relief. "Miss Tessara. Boy am I glad to see you."

"Looking for your glasses, I assume?" En joked, the initial battle adrenaline wearing off.

"Uh, hm, yes," the assistant said prissily, standing up straight and putting his glasses on. "I was just about to join the fighting and save the day in a righteous display of vengeful fury." Pressing a button, he spoke into the intercom, "Doctor, it's safe now. Your patient seems to have triumphed over whatever it was that prompted the fighting noises outside."

The door flew open and Doctor Usanagi stormed out, her eyes wide and a pistol in her hand. "Miss, what were you thinking?" she shouted, angry as Hell, going straight for En. "You could have been killed out there!" She grabbed En by the arms, still holding the pistol. "I don't treat people just so they can off and get themselves killed!"

"But they get killed healthy?" En joked.

Livid, Usanagi shouted, "This is nothing to joke about!"

"Oi, loudmouth," Melissa interrupted, annoyed. "We happened to risk our necks to keep your little clinic from getting robbed and burned to the ground."

"What are you talking about?" Usanagi asked, calming down and letting go of En. Her worry was touching, but it could do with a little less hysteria. Hysteria wasn't good for her headache.

"The Fiends," En explained. "They were going to grab every chem in this clinic."

Usanagi let out a short sigh and shook her head. "No they weren't. I mean, yes they extort us, but they've never hurt us or taken more than a small amount of chems."

Melissa snorted. "Fiends? Knowin' restraint? Pull the other one."

She gave another short head-shake, "I know, I know, they're usually far less disciplined, but they know better than to bite the hand that feeds them. So they come by for chems every week or two, I give them some, and they leave us alone."

"So it's a protection racket," Melissa said with a shrug. "Not like that makes it any less bad."

"Look, look," En interrupted. "We can sort that out later. Right now, some of my friends need help. Looters or extortionists, it doesn't matter, we got rid of them, because we didn't want to let you get robbed. Can you please help my friends?"

Usanagi looked ready to fulminate some more, but then she restrained herself and said, "Very well, bring them in. Most urgent cases first."

"Most urgent," Melissa said to En as they walked back out. "That's probably squashed-nose stuffy Ringo."

"You alright though?" En asked.

"Never better."

Usanagi first examined Ringo's nose, which didn't turn out to be broken, then disinfected and bandaged Meyers' leg. Lastly, she saw Sunny with the door to her office closed while Ringo sat sullenly nursing his swollen and packed nose, and the others read the old magazines on the coffee table, except Meyers of course, who had his own reading. It took quite a while, but Sunny didn't look much better when she came out, holding a tube of whatever it was that Usanagi had given her.

"Apply this vitamin-E cream whenever you get the chance, but at least once before going to sleep and once after waking up".

"… thanks."

"Don't mention it." Usanagi gave Melissa a worried look. "I'd like to see you for a moment as well. Your health looks the same as your manners: in deplorable state."

Chortling, Melissa threw the magazine she was reading on the coffee table. "Sorry, doc, flowery stuff isn't my specialty."

"It would seem. Come on, let me take a look at you."

"I've never been with a Jap chick before," Melissa said in En's ear, "so if it takes a bit longer, don't come knockin'."

Usanagi stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. "I heard that."

"Ah," Melissa said, matter-of-factly. "You weren't supposed to."

"I gathered. Now stop being childish and get in here."

While Melissa got her busted eye socket and badly-healed burns checked, Leza Watkins shuffled in, looking wracked with shame.

"_Well_, there she is," Meyers immediately called out. "Thanks for the leg-hair shave, blondie."

"I'm so _sorry_, Cliff?" Leza whined, looking almost unable to say the words.

Luckily for her, Meyers simply dismissed the whole thing with a wave of his hand. "It's okay. It happens. Just um… be more careful in the future?"

Sunny sat down next to Ringo, taking a look at his nose. "You're letting her off easy."

Meyer shrugged. "No point quarrelin' over it now. We're friends and friends forgive each other for mistakes."

Watkins smiled feebly. "Thanks."

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again. A bit more to the left and you'd have severed my calf muscle. Beauty or not, then I would've gotten a bit irascible."

"I know. Sorry." She probably had no idea what 'irascible' meant.

"You're forgiven if you kiss it better."

"Uh, no?"

With another shrug, Meyers resumed his reading. "Can't blame me for tryin'."

Even though Meyers had let Leza off the hook (more than a bit too easily as far as En, and she guessed the others, were concerned), the blonde still looked horribly guilt-wracked. Maybe for the best, teach her to be more damn careful in the future. Life in the Wastes was hard enough without a friend accidentally shooting you in the back.

Melissa came out of the doctor's office, a fresh white splint taped onto her eye socket and fresh dressings on the burns. En thought they'd healed over but it seemed they still bled sometimes. Usanagi looked far less impatient with Melissa as she'd been before she'd come in, and En supposed that was a good thing.

Even though En offered, and Ringo insisted, that they pay, Usanagi would have none of it and sent them on their way, En taking an analgesic and (secretly) an anti-depressant before they headed back to Freeside.

The Fiend bodies didn't have much in the way of valuables (it was apparently a nasty habit of chem hounds to always be completely skint), but there were just over a hundred caps when they piled the contents of the dead Fiends' pockets together. The old revolver had been a piece of junk before the War probably, and now it was even worse. It had a few .357 rounds as ammo, but the copper in them had gone green already, so they were completely useless. Two of them had carried a beer bottle, but one had fallen on top of his and crushed it, and the other one was opened and passed around, everyone taking a swill to celebrate the victory. The rest of their possessions had all been junk, empty syringes, other drug paraphernalia, and other crap. Even their weapons were absolute shit, ranking just above petrified turds in terms of value.

Still a hundred plus caps, it was one more pass card. As soon as they had six, they'd finally be able to get into the Strip, and Strip meant Benny.

It was getting late, and the only thing left to do was hike back to Freeside. En had another minor seizure on the way back, but they weren't as god-awful as the recent ones had been. She tried to tell herself it was the meds working already, but she knew it couldn't be.

The sun had almost set by the time they got back to the Atomic Wrangler, and they ordered the cheapest dinner they could get, some kind of stew with unidentifiable ingredients, but an acceptable taste, even though Meyers found it necessary to complain about the texture of the meat. Figured he'd be uppity when it came to meat. Apart from that though, dinner was had in a more or less relaxed atmosphere, Ringo not saying much due to nose pain, and Sunny a bit lost in her own thoughts, but Leza and Meyers had made up, and she was talking with great enthusiasm about V.R. technology and what its potential was, and even though En could see she didn't even know what she was talking about herself, she enjoyed the casual atmosphere. Not many people seemed to order dinner at the Wrangler, so the bar was pleasantly sparsely populated. The owners provided good service, and while the stew was slightly suspicious in appearance, there was more than enough of it, ensuring no hungry stomachs during the night.

Ringo and Sunny understandably excused themselves rather early, as soon as the tables were cleared and removed to prepare the Wrangler for the bar service, and Melissa said she wasn't up for another drinky-evening, so she went to her room, which prompted Leza to get up and say, "You coming, Ennie?"

"Actually, no," En said, leaning on the back of her chair, her eyes on the gambling tables. The bar had filled up nicely, and all the tables had players, with quite a few people watching the games. "I've _so_ always wanted to see if I'm any good at that."

"It's not about being good at," Meyers remarked, lighting his pipe. "It's more dumb luck than anything."

"Even better," En cheered, "I'm the luckiest kid in the world, remember?"

"Alright," Meyers said, puffing his pipe. "Let's go gamble."

Watkins groaned. "Ugh, I'm goin' to bed. Be quiet when you come up, Ennie, okay?"

"Sure, yeah," En replied absently. Her mind was already at the gambling tables. She said to Meyers, "I beat the living Hell out of Ringo every time we played caravan, and I'm going to beat the living Hell out of this place too."

Meyers laughed, standing up with some effort due to the healing leg, and said, "Let's see, little lady. What would you like to try your hand at?"

She didn't have to think about that. "I've _always_ wanted to try blackjack." She dumped fifty caps into the cashier's drawer and received fifty chips in return. "It's a lot but I am _so_ winning that back, trust me.

"Blackjack it is. But the spanking on the bare bottom is for you if we end up penniless."

"Sure, sure, yeah, yeah. So how do you play?"

After laughing in amazement that En was so confident without even knowing how to play, Meyers explained the rules to her. She picked up on the rest as she watched the other players go about the game. Didn't seem too hard. Just when she was confident she knew the game well enough, two players left, one with a pockmarked face, and another overweight guy with hair slicked back. En shouldered through the crowd and conquered one of the seats, Meyers' pipe smoke encouraging her right behind. The other seat was taken by a ghoul in a repairman outfit.

"Muchos gracias for the honour to play with you, amigos," the ghoul said in a hoarse voice.

"Uh, yeah, hi," En told the table.

The cards were dealt, and En began cautiously, placing smaller bets at the back of the box, so she played behind and let the opponents have control over the hands, and after observing the players, she'd figured out rather quickly who to back and whose box not to place bets in. There were a few hits and misses, and after several rounds, her chips total was 48. Deciding she'd seen enough, she placed twenty chips in the front of the betting box at her position. The ghoul slid ten chips behind hers, and a middle-aged woman (who was an awful player, standing far too soon and usually losing with only a 15 or a 16) backed her with five more.

Her face-up card was a 6, and her face-down one a 9. Standing at such a low total would probably mean losing, so she tapped the table as she'd seen the other players do. The dealer slid a card towards her and took one for himself. She peeked at the card, a 3. 18 was a difficult total, she'd gather already. Very easy to bust, but still rather low compared to a good dealer. Choosing caution, she decided to stand and beat the dealer's 17, to the good cheer of herself, Meyers, the ghoul and the middle-aged woman.

Increasing the bet to twenty-five chips, En again took control of her own box, the ghoul promptly following, and the woman betting her grand total of fifteen chips. Her face-up card was a 9, with a 3 face-down. Only a moron wouldn't hit at that point, but screw her if she didn't get a 10 and went bust. With a hoarse chuckle, the ghoul commented with his Mexican accent, "Sometimes you just ain't allowed to win no matter what." The middle-aged woman simply got up and left the table without a word.

She bet another fifteen chips, the ghoul following with ten, but overalls won the game for himself with a straight-out blackjack draw, prompting frustrated groans from all the players, En included. Grinning the graveyard of his teeth bare, the ghoul collected the twenty chips he'd bet on himself and got another twenty to fatten his wallet. "And sometimes," he said to En, "you just ain't allowed to lose no matter what."

"I'll win this one," she said confidently, sliding 25 of her 28 chips to the front of the box. The ghoul in the overalls seemed to have faith in her boast, following her with ten chips. "Careful, little lady," Meyers said out of the corner of his mouth. "We need that money."

"We'll get it back and then some," she said, getting her cards dealt, a 6 and a 4. A hit brought her up to fifteen. She tapped the table again and got another five, standing at 20 while all the others busted. The dealer revealed his 19, sending all the chips his way, apart from the ones in En's box, which went back to their owners doubled. Smirking, she said, "Told ya."

"We're ahead," Meyers remarked. "Good job, little lady. Be right back."

En bet twenty chips in her box, controlling it, and followed the ghoul with another ten. It was only fair to place some trust in him too. The ghoul in overalls backed her with five, as did a handsome man in his early thirties.

A 2 and a 7, hit with a 10 took her to 18. En stood, but now it was the dealer's turn to beat her with a point, though the ghoul in turn topped his score, so En lost the ten chips in her box, but received the same amount back from the ghoul. Silently, Meyers set a coke down next to her, clinking his scotch glass gently against it.

En bet another thirty on herself and followed the ghoul with ten, and the dealer busted while she stood at 19 and the ghoul at 17, with the handsome guy at 18 and the fourth and fifth player busting. Ninety-three chips, not bad.

"One more," En announced, sliding seventy-three chips into the front of her box. Last bet, so no playing for chump change. "Last one for me too," the ghoul in overalls said, trusting twenty chips to En's hand and controlling his own box with another twenty, raising his beer to her. "Got faith in you, chica." Another player, a black guy with flamboyant pink glasses, placed a ten in her box too. So much responsibility.

She got a queen face-up, and a 4 in the hole. Fourteen total. All players tapped the table and were given a card, busting flamboyant glasses-guy and the ghoul in overalls. He was terribly unfortunate, drawing a 6 and 7, and then a 9. She tapped the table again and got a 1. Handsome guy went bust. Fifteen was a dangerous number, but she tapped again, and got another 1. The last player got a ten and was out of the game. It was between her and the dealer now, a rather sullen-looking twenty-year-old, whose brain wasn't as sullen as his face. The dealer stood, and all eyes were now on her.

Sixteen, damn this was difficult. The odds of drawing a 10 in blackjack are always damn high, with all the face cards counting as 10s. Still, no way a dealer would stand at anything lower than seventeen. She'd have to ask for another card, but if she busted, there'd be no hope at all. The ghoul looked at her intently, his brown eyes vibrant and alive inside his scarred, puffed and wrinkled head.

Licking her lips, she pondered for a moment. The four cards on the table in front of her, the face-up one a queen, made her two followers gasp in surprise as she tapped the table again. Raising his eyebrow ever so slightly, the dealer slid a card towards her. En checked her cards and then slid them under her chips, indicating that she stood.

Smirking, the dealer revealed his hand, an impressive twenty.

"Chica," the ghoul said, "you better have twenty-one."

All En said to that was, "Sure do," revealing her cards, the last one a lucky 4.

Both the ghoul in front of her, and Meyers behind her whooped as En dragged her doubled bet back toward her. A hundred and sixty-six chips. Not bad for an hour's work.

"Alright little lady," Meyers commanded. "That's enough gamblin' for a day. Always have to quit while you're ahead."

Even though En wanted to play a few more hands, she supposed the guy was right. She'd gambled with their money, come out ahead, and it was best to stop now lest she lose it right back. She stood up from the table at the same time the ghoul did. He extended his gnarled hand and En shook it. It felt weird, like a hand with skin composed entirely of callus lumps. "Pleasure playin' ya, chica," the ghoul said. "Name's Raul."

"En. Thanks for the game, Raul."

"Thank _you_." And with that, he went to cash in his chips. En finished her coke at the bar with Meyers, then did the same.

"You know," Meyers said, ordering a second scotch from the winnings, and a coke for En, "in a way, this was a reprehensible act we performed here."

En sucked in coke through her straw. "How so?"

"Bettin' our collective money so we both could have a good time." He held the scotch up to the light, inspecting its colour.

With a shrug, En said, "We came out ahead, didn't we?"

"And how. Your friend Ringo will probably object to us puttin' our cash on the line, but the caps don't lie."

"Exactly. Let him try and argue against those results." Finishing her coke, En felt weariness wash over her. She checked her Pip-boy and saw it was past midnight already. "Well, mister Mey… uh, Cliff, I had fun!" It was the truth. She'd even temporarily forgotten most of her headache.

"So did I, little lady. Best head to our bunks now, huh?"

"M-hm."

Meyers turned his empty scotch glass with the tips of his fingers. "You're uh… bunkin' with Watkins, right?"

"M-hm?"

"Can you ask her, ummm…" he began awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah?" Surely he wasn't going to ask for a nudie picture or a pair of used panties?

He cleared his throat and then quickly said, "Just tell her I'm not mad at her, okay?"

En had a feeling that wasn't what he'd meant to say originally, so she asked, "That's all?"

"Yessir." He yawned and stretched, then tipped his hat at the bartending sister. "Gotta go to bed now, early day tomorrow."

En shrugged. "Not really, we get up when we want."

He grinned and admitted, "I'm old, I need my sleep."

It was dark in the Wrangler's hotel room, but En didn't need her eyes to estimate where Watkins lay in order to avoid waking her up by accidentally planting herself on top of her. All she needed to do was follow her ears, since Watkins was snoring lightly but audibly. She took the heavy leather off, crawled into the bed on the non-snoring side, took off her socks with her toes, then unhooked her bra under her shirt and slid it out from under it, dropping it on the ground with her socks.

Popping another analgesic along with an anti-depressant, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for the headache to allow her to drift off, thinking of home and the stories she'd have to tell the people that were doubtless missing her.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I'm finally lying here next to you. After being so crazy about you for so long, and I finally know what it's like to feel your skin against mine."<p>

"Weird how things can turn out, huh?"

"Yeah. Man, am I glad I finally got the courage to just tell you straight-out how I feel."

"So am I. Who knows how long we might have liked each other and not known it."

"I know one thing, there's gonna be a lot of guys gnashing their teeth, wishing they were me tomorrow."

"Haha. I'm sure there'll be more tears shed over you not being single anymore."

"I dunno, and I don't care. All I want is you."

"En's not gonna be happy when she gets home, though."

"Um, could we not spoil the moment by talking about her?"

"Just saying, she'll be heartbroken."

"Yeah, but who cares about her, right? Not like she ever stood a chance anyway. With her stupid immature jokes all the time. It really embarrasses me when she tried to act all flirty, you know that? Ugh."

"Still, she'll claw my eyes out. Don't think there'll be much friendship left anymore."

"As if you're actually friends."

"She thinks so."

"Yeah. I know. You should really tell her though. She thinks you're her best friend, and it's a bit unfair to let her go on thinking that, isn't it?"

"I know, but I guess I don't want to make her feel bad, you know?"

"At least if you all told her how you really feel about her, she'd accept that she only _thinks_ everyone likes her. That's the thing with her, people always act real nice to her because they don't want to burst her bubble and let her go on thinking she's great. Everyone's afraid to confront her with the fact that she's a loser."

"Hey, come on, don't say that… Okay, yeah, I know, I know, she's a bit of a loser. Still, she's not a bad kid, she's just… you know, kinda oblivious."

"Yeah, oblivious, exactly. Shit, she still thinks the one time she got some was because the guy actually had eyes for her."

"Well… he did go home with her."

"Uh, _obviously_ because he couldn't have you. He was staring at you the entire time, and you know it. And then when the girl he really wanted to go for went home, he was stuck with a boner and with her silly love-struck cockblocking friend. Not a great looker and not much of a personality, but sometimes, you gotta cut your losses and accept you won't get any better than that tonight, right?"

"You make it sound so… awful."

"But it's the truth. Stupid En."

"Anyway, sorry I brought her up. Let's just… cuddle up real close and go to sleep. Can you turn off the light?"

"Yeah, sure. Having you lie against me is the best feeling I've ever had."

"M-hm. I think I'm gonna stay awake for a bit longer and just enjoy being so close to you."

"I couldn't wish for anyone better to have here with me, Allison."


	31. Hunting  Compulsion

**.**

**THIRTY-ONE**

**Atomic Wrangler**

**July 7th**

**08:18**

"

"Meyers wanted me to tell you he's not mad at you for your accident," En said to Watkins as she sat on the bed, lacing her boots. Watkins was busy applying mascara in the bathroom, the door open.

"That's a relief," Watkins said, concentrating on the mirror. "Still feel bad about it though?"

"Yeah, well."

Watkins screwed the top back on her bottle of mascara. "Ready?"

"Mhm."

"Breakfast time then?"

They went down together and didn't see anyone yet. "Oh, yay, we're first," Watkins exclaimed, as if it was some great achievement. "… but we won't be eating much, will we?" she asked, sounding slightly let down.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Well… 'cause of the money and all?"

En couldn't resist a smirk. "Eat all you want. We've got plenty."

"What, really?"

"Uh huh."

"Won big at the tables, you and the old guy?"

En felt her smirk become even more pronounced. "Nah, just me. Meyers watched."

"_Well_," Watkins announced. "In that c ase, I'm ordering, like, a totally huge-ass breakfast. Order for you too?"

"Sure, yeah, but just two sandwiches with cheese. I'm never that hungry in the morning."

"Tch," Watkins blew. "You gotta, like, eat right, so you can grow big ta-tas like me?"

En had no idea what to say to that, so she let Watkins stroll over to the counter, swaying her hips. No sooner had she reached the bar, than the bartender striking up a conversation with her. She leaned on the counter and pretended to listen intently, playing her game as she always did.

"Lemme guess," Melissa said to En as she sat down at the table. "Blondie's gone and ordered grub, but she decided it was more important tryin' to give some sook the impression she's plannin' to let 'im root her."

"Something like that. Sleep well?"

"Like a log," she said with a broad grin. "Oi, blondie!" she shouted at Watkins, who turned, startled. "Three sangas with bacon and a coffee, yeah?"

Pretending she'd forgotten why she was there in the first place, Watkins finally got to ordering breakfast.

"Meyers told me you lucked out at the tables?"

"Just a bit."

"Ringo's gonna do 'is block when he hears about it." Melissa was clearly anticipating Ringo's soon-to-be towering rage with much eagerness.

"Yeah, well, the caps don't lie," En repeated what Meyers had said the night before. "Though we'll still need much more if we want to get passes for all of us."

Melissa shrugged. "Opportunities always present themselves, jillaroo. All you gotta know is where to look for 'em."

Watkins came back to the table, carrying a tray awkwardly with both hands. "Sorry, got a bit held up?"

Wordlessly, Melissa reached to the tray and hauled in her bacon sandwiches, setting off the breakfast gorging spree. They ate silently and greedily, and by the time Ringo, Sunny and Meyers were at the table, breakfast was half-devoured already. From the sourness of Ringo's face, En could deduct that Meyers had already told Sunny and him about the card-playing fun that had been had the night back. To En's relief and Melissa's disappointment, however, he didn't utter a word apart from the strictly necessary. But En knew better than to assume she wouldn't get it on her plate some time in the near future. People always had that annoying tendency to drag old cows out of the ditch in arguments.

Still, for as long as it lasted, the delay of the new-one-ripping was welcome.

"So," Sunny recapitulated, munching on her half of the bacon sandwich she'd split with Melissa. "We've got, what, a hundred in the bank?"

"After deducting breakfast, a hundred and ten."

"Not exactly impressive," Sunny said to that, smacking her lips.

Melissa shrugged. "It's a big Wastes. Plenty of opportunities to make money."

"True," Meyers agreed, "but you need to find them."

"It'd be even better," Watkins remarked, licking the bacon grease off the tips of her fingers, "if one of those opportunities meant, like, finding some old technology?" Hm, looked like she'd come back on her decision to stay gone from the Brotherhood. Made sense she'd change her mind once the initial shock of rejection and expulsion had worn off.

"This is the Wastes, blondie," Melissa remarked. "Still lots of tech to discover if you keep your eyes peeled. We'll find something."

"This might be interestin'," Meyers said, licking the bacon grease off his fingers and producing a crumpled piece of paper. "Fished from one of those chem dogs' pockets. Used it as wrappin' paper for the caps, an' was about to throw it away, but… well, have a look."

En held out her hand.

Meyers was right, it certainly might be interesting. The paper was an A3-sized poster with four thumb tack holes in its corners.

WANTED, the poster said, FOR MURDER LARCENY ASSAULT SMUGGLING CHEM TRAFFICKING AND OTHER CRIMES AGAINST THE REPUBLIC OF NEW CALIFORNIA AND ITS PEOPLE

DEAD OR ALIVE, REWARD 250 CAPS

Below the bold-faced line was a rough sketch of a male face, which was so vague it could depict anybody. The words continued below the photo:

DRIVER NEPHI

REWARD ONLY PAID UPON LIVE DELIVERY OR PROOF OF DEATH BY PRESENTING SUBJECT'S WEAPON (NINE IRON)

So far it was just a wanted poster, but the text scrawled on it in red crayon made it more interesting: _look your famous._

Ringo would probably have a heart attack when seeing the grammar error, but that wasn't important right now. Someone had written this on the poster, and hopefully lived long enough to give it to the wanted man in question. Which means that, unless the scrawler had died before being able to show his work, the wanted man was one of the Fiends they'd wasted the other day. A reward of 250 caps by presenting the man's weapon, shit, all they had to do was hustle back to the clinic and pick it up. Well, except…

"What's a nine iron?" she asked the others.

"A type of golf club," Ringo answered, annoyed. "Now are you inclined to divulge what's on the paper some time in the near future?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. It's a wanted poster, apparently written out for one of the Fiends we scragged."

"Right," Melissa realized. "That's why you wanted to know about the nine iron. Cause one of 'em was carryin' a golf club."

"Really?" En said, enthusiastic, "Well, all we need to do is present that club to the NCR for a hard-farting two hundred and fifty caps!"

"NCR huh?" Melissa asked, suddenly a lot cooler. "My best friends."

Meyers chuckled. "And mine."

"NCR or not," Sunny pointed out, "caps is caps and money doesn't stink."

"Uh, _yeah_?" Watkins agreed. "I mean, I'm kinda-sorta still Brotherhood and the NCR's like, the enemy," she made quotation marks in the air as she said it, "but Ennie needs money, and 'sides, don't we, like, all hate those Fiends the most?"

"No," Melissa said flatly. "The Fiends weren't waitin' on a hill at Bitter Springs."

Ringo rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to respond, but En was quicker. "Melissa, what happened at Bitter Springs?"

"Bad things," Melissa merely anwered, looking away bitterly. "Ask Ringo about it sometime. Least he an' his NCR cobbers can do is fess up to what they've done."

"I wasn't _at_ Bitter Springs, Melissa," Ringo snapped. "I regret what transpired there, but I don't feel responsible for it."

"Guys, come on," Watkins said quietly. "I don't like it when people fight?"

"She's right," Sunny agreed with her. "For once."

En dropped the subject, hoping that would be enough to douse the flames. "Anyway, it's good money, and like Watkins said, we're getting paid for killing a Fiend, everyone wins. Except the Fiends."

Melissa abruptly rose from the table. "You need the dosh, I understand. But you're gonna do it without me. Give me some caps, jillaroo. I'll be here when you get back."

"You sure?" En asked. It'd be strange travelling without Melissa's brawn, even if it was just for a short while.

"I'm not takin' NCR money. Plus, doctor said I needed to rest, right?"

Nice emotional blackmail there. En fished a handful of caps out of her pocket and gave it to Melissa. "You're right, get some rest. Rest, alright? That means no sex with random strangers."

Her good cheer at least a bit restored, Melissa crossed her arms and turned up her nose indignantly. "Rootin's relaxin'."

"Okay, alright," Sunny broke off that particular line of conversation. "Let's go back to the clinic." She rose from her chair, grimacing slightly as her weight came on to her legs. En couldn't help but think Sunny was putting on a bit of a show.

"If you people don't mind," Meyers said, "I could do with some R&R myself. Sometimes I forget I just got out of prison."

"Party of four then," En said. "Unless anyone else wants to rest his poor sore little feet?"

That earned her a glare from Sunny. Geez, Sunny, learn to take a joke. It wasn't even aimed at you.

"I'm like, bursting with energy!" Watkins remarked.

"Sure?" Meyers asked, grinning. "If you want to relax a bit, there's always place in my bed?"

"Tch. Even in your dreams, you wouldn't stand a chance," Watkins said to that.

Sourly, Ringo clinked his coffee cup down on its saucer. "Let's just go."

The atmosphere wasn't exactly festive on the way to the clinic, though not for Watkins' lack of trying. Sunny and Ringo weren't in the best of moods, so En spent most of the walking time with Watkins, who was giving a detailed account of the prank she'd pulled with Stanton, stuffing the contents of seven emptied paper perforators into the air conditioning system of the Brotherhood bunker before Elder McNamara's inauguration speech, causing the whole assembly to be covered in the confetti belching from the vents when the air conditioning was turned on. She seemed utterly oblivious that stunts like those made it pretty logical that she got booted.

Once at the clinic, it was simply business of finding the ditch where they'd dropped the Fined bodies in, picking up the golf club (it was there, yes!), and taking it back to the NCR. Except…

"Uh, Ringo?"

"Mm?"

"Any idea where we're supposed to drop this off?"

He blinked, not having thought about it yet either. "I… suppose any NCR post will do?"

"What's closest?" Sunny asked.

He thought for a while. "Camp McCarran, I think. Just need to follow the Freeside wall until we're West of Vegas. Old airfield converted to a military camp." For some reason, he exchanged a quick glance with Sunny and said, "I'll be right back," trudging off to a cluster of rocks.

"Alright, let's go."

"No way, En," Sunny said abruptly, stopping. "No way."

"No way what?"

Sunny exchanged a glance with Watkins, who looked down at her feet. "The uh, the girls and me have been talking while you were in the bathroom."

En's mouth went dry and her stomach contracted.

"We're not sitting by while you let… that thing down below get worse and worse until it's too late."

Even though she knew all too well, she still asked, without thinking, "What are you talking about?"

Sunny looked at Watkins for backup again, but she was still looking down at her feet. With an uncomfortable swallow, she told En, "You're constantly scratching yourself down below, and Leza said she's even seen you wipe your eyes after you've been to the bathroom."

En's heart beat rapidly in her chest. "So what? I just get itchy sometimes, it's part of being on the road!" She heard her voice increasing in volume.

"Sweetie, you, me and Watkins and Melissa, we're all women. Well, some more than others, but trust me, we _know_ that what's going on with you isn't normal."

"What, you've been talking behind my back?"

Sunny immediately brought up her hands to nuance that statement. "We're worried about you, sweetie. Whatever it is, it needs to be looked at and treated."

"Who says there even is an 'it'?" En snapped shrilly. "And what the Hell are you doing butting into my business? I can't believe this!" Her head pounded harder and harder.

"Shouting won't change our minds," Sunny said adamantly. "You're going back into that clinic and you're letting yourself get checked out."

"Or _what_, Sunny?"

"Ennie, don't be that way?" Watkins finally said. The back stabbing ditz had finally found the nerve to join the conversation. "You _know_ you need to get yourself looked at. Don't fight over it, please, we just want what's best for you?"

"What's _best_ for me is that you all butt the fuck out of my business!" En shouted. "You bunch of conniving traitors!"

Sunny crossed her arms. "Sweetie, our minds are made up. You want to keep us as friends? Then respect the fact that we care about you and want you to be healthy."

"Maybe I don't want you as friends anymore!" En yelled, losing control. "Maybe I don't want people who talk behind my back about personal stuff around!"

"Ennie – "

"Fuck you, Watkins! And fuck you too, Sunny! I'm done with y – "

The air stalled in her throat as her lungs cramped up and the pounding in her head rose so strongly that it felt as if her head was about to burst. A loud shrieking swelled in her ears and her vision again became bright white. There was a faraway sensation of falling, followed by a faint sound of a body hitting the ground. Everything went black, and the next moment, Sunny and Watkins stood over her, concerned, as her vision slowly returned and the shrieking subsided. There was a strange sensation on her lips and cheeks, as if the breeze on there felt ten times more present.

"My God Ennie, you okay?"

"Sweetie, talk to me."

En could only manage an inarticulate slur.

"It's okay," she heard Sunny say, miles away. "She's coming around. Take your time, sweetie, we're right here."

The shrieking slowly became manageable and her strength gradually returned. As she opened her eyes she saw Sunny's arm come down to her face and she felt the rough fabric of her sleeve wiping her lips and cheek. "Can you sit up?"

"Ehhhh…"

Sunny and Watkins each took one of her hands and gently lifted her to a sitting position. "Better?"

"Yuh… yeah, sorry."

"No sorries," Sunny immediately said. "But your seizure won't change our minds. Go to the clinic. I'll go in with you if you want. Or Leza if you prefer." Her tone of voice clearly said she counted on her not to prefer Leza.

En shook her head, despite how painful that was. "Nuh… no." But the fight had gone out of her, she no longer had the strength to resist or discuss. She briefly had the urge to say she wanted Watkins to go in with her, just to hurt Sunny's feelings after her betrayal, but she didn't even have the willpower to do that. "I'll go alone."

"Good," Watkins said to that.

"But I'm not gonna forgive you guys for this."

That got Sunny in her weak spot! Her face immediately went distraught. "Sweetie, come on, don't say such things."

"Geez, Sunny," Leza scolded, her face disapproving. "She's just trying to make you feel bad. Ennie, you'll forgive us when you're finally rid of whatever it is that's causing you trouble?"

"We'll see about that," En said, realizing she'd have to be satisfied with giving Sunny a good scare for now. Because god dammit, what they'd done was rotten, good intentions or no!

They helped her to her feet and supported her to the clinic. Before they let her go in, Sunny stopped and muttered, "Hold on, some more drool," wiping En's face again. Angry, she shook herself away from Sunny and said, "I can do it myself."

"Sure," Sunny said curtly, her feelings hurt. "Fine."

"Now let me get this over with."

"Aha," the doctor's assistant called out, surprised, when he saw En come in. "Miss…" he had to look at his ledger, "Ah yes, Tessara was it? Wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"I've got… something else I need the doctor for."

"Certainly, have a seat right there. The doctor will be with you right away."

Her arms crossed sulkily, En sat down in the same seat she'd sat in a day ago. She'd dodged the bullet there, but seemed like she wouldn't be able to now. Although, 'dodged the bullet'… it'd have to happen eventually, and maybe she'd needed that kick in the ass Sunny and Watkins (and by proxy, Melissa too) had given her. But that didn't mean they had a right to stick their noses into her personal business. Sure, she'd overreacted because it was such a private thing, but really, confronting her with it like that, no way, that had been taking it too far. Then again… they'd tried the subtle way, she realized now, and it had gotten them nothing but snarls from her. Ugh, what a mess.

"Miss Tessara, you had something else you wanted to discuss?" The doctor stood in the doorway, looking slightly surprised.

"Hello doctor, ummm… Izanagi?"

She chuckled. "Usanagi. If you're going to call me an old Shinto god, at least call me the female one."

"Uh?"

"Nevermind. Come in."

With leaden feet, En followed the doctor into her practice.

"Have a seat."

En did so.

"So, you had another question?"

Nervously wringing her hands, En hesitated to answer.

"Hm," Usanagi remarked. "Something rather private, apparently. This wouldn't have anything to do with your friend asking you if you'd told me everything the other day, would it?"

"Well, I um…" _Come on, say it!_

"Whatever it is," Usanagi prodded, "hiding it will only make it worse. You're not leaving here until you tell me what's wrong."

_Just shut off your thinking and say it! Once it's said, there's no way back, all you have to do is spit it out!_

En shut her brain off, for just a fraction of a second, long enough to quiet all the doubts and hang-ups and fears, and managed to say, "It's something down below."

_FINALLY! _Her brain, when turned back on, immediately shouted and screamed in protest. _What have you done you silly cow! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is gonna be? You fucking stupid moron! _En pretended not to hear it.

"Ah yes," Usanagi said, surprisingly casual. "That's always hard to speak up about. So, what's bothering you?"

No way back now. Even though she still had to say exactly what was going on, it felt like a weight had fallen off her shoulders. It was out, finally. She had a problem down below. Maybe it was something only sluts and marginals and irresponsible people got but fuck it, she had one and as shameful and humiliating as it was, something needed to be done. "I uh… have itches all the time and when… well, when I pee, it hurts."

"Just discomfort or real pain?"

"Real pain. A lot. Sometimes I need to grab onto something from the pain."

"I see," Usanagi said, listening intently. "Any redness or discharges or growths?"

_Ewww, growths!_ "Not… not that I can see."

"Did you actually look?"

Clearing her throat, she had to admit, "Um… no." Her headache was killing her, and her heart beating fast in fear of the diagnosis made it all that much worse.

"I'm not surprised. Women should really learn to look at themselves every once in a while." She sighed. "I'll need to take a look if that's alright with you."

"Do we have to?" But she knew the answer already.

"Yes, miss, we do," Usanagi said, gently but firmly. "Don't worry, it's the most normal thing in the world."

"Normal to you maybe, to me it's anything but."

"It'll be over in a flash," Usanagi assured her. "Now hop out of your pants and onto the examination table." She tapped the cracked leather of the table to reinforce her point.

En closed her eyes as the doctor took her look, dreading to hear her cry out in disgust, vomiting all over her own practice at the sight of a pus-filled, weeping and cracked stink factory.

"Hmmm, looks a bit inflamed." En's relief at that single sentence was indescribable. The whole thing was over rather quickly, and mostly painless, apart from a few searing jolts when the doctor touched some particularly inflamed parts. Then, all of a sudden, Usanagi said to herself, "Ah, wait… _now_ I see." She dipped a small cotton-tipped applicator into a machine, and after three seconds, it emitted three beeps. "And there we have it."

Usanagi told her to get her pants back on and took off her rubber gloves, throwing them in the trash.

"So what is it?" En asked impatiently.

"Sit down," Usanagi said with a smile. It looked like it was gonna be okay, but she wanted to get it from her mouth nonetheless. "I've got good news and bad news."

"Ugh," En protested. "Don't play that game with me!"

Usanagi's smile broadened. "Alright, I'll start with the bad news. What you have is most certainly a venereal disease, and a sexually transferrable one at that. Which means someone gave it through you through sexual intercourse."

En felt really really small. "Yeah. I thought so. It's not AIDS or something is it?"

Frowning in disapproval, Usanagi said, "No. If you had HIV, you wouldn't notice it through genital pain."

"Oh."

"To the good news then!" Usanagi said, her good cheer returning, "It's not syphilis or gonorrhoea or any of the really nasty ones. It's _only_ trichomoniasis."

"Only trikanawhat?"

"Trichomoniasis, also just called trich, is a disease caused by parasites inhabiting the urethra and vagina."

"Ew." Parasites, that sounded gross.

"I didn't catch it right away because it's so hard to see. The parasites are microscopically small so you need a machine to pick them up."

"So what do I do about it?"

Usanagi rose, rummaged through one of her cupboards, and came back with a box of meds. "Metronidazole," she explained. "Take these and you'll get rid of them."

"What, just like that?" En couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes. Just like that." Usanagi leaned forward over her desk. "Don't you feel incredibly silly that you've walked around with this for so long and all it took was a quick five-minute check-up and a box of pills?"

En couldn't do anything but admit, "Yeah."

"If you'd let this go untreated for long, you could have gotten serious infections, gone infertile or developed cancer. Next time you have a problem, _go see a doctor_."

"I will."

With a grin, Usanagi said, "Now get out of here, take your pills and enjoy peeing in a pain-free world again."

"I will. Thank you."

"Go on, shoo."

The early noon sun hit her face when she came out of the clinic, feeling awkward but relieved. There hadn't been a grotesque Frankenvag between her legs, no smelly infected cracks and drips, just a bit of redness. And she'd never realized it was so minor simply because she'd been afraid to look. She felt like a complete moron.

Well, at least she was a moron who could pee without whimpering in pain again soon.

"So," Leza asked, cheerfully uncaring about the intimacy of the subject. "What'd you have?"

"Jesus," Sunny hissed. "What kind of question is that?"

"What? We're friends, right? We should be able to talk about stuff like th – "

Sunny shook her head. "You moron."

"It wasn't anything really serious," En stopped the pointless argument. "Few pills and I should be rid of it."

"Ooh, yay," Watkins cheered.

"So don't you feel stupid, walking around with it for so long and not – "

"Look, let's just drop the subject, okay?" She wasn't going down that road again. Not everyone had to be the patronizing pedant pointing out how she should've seen a doctor long ago. Usanagi, fine. Her friends, no.

"I'm just saying – "

"Don't be just saying," En cut her off. "I saw a doctor, but that doesn't mean I appreciate what you three did."

"Sweetie, come on," Sunny tried to appeal to her. "You know you needed it."

"Doesn't matter. Let's just go."

After getting Ringo, who must have been the most bored person in the world, sitting behind a rock for an hour (though he smelled of weed so he'd at least been able to relax), they walked back, golf club in hand, bound for Camp McCarran. En felt better after the doctor's visit (shit, what a relief that had been), but it still didn't let the three females off the hook. She had to teach them a lesson, and she'd do it through some good old sulking. That'd show 'em how they'd hurt her feelings! Maybe sulking was childish, but she _was_ a child, right Sunny? Your words exactly.

Leza would be hard to impress with antisocial behaviour, but Sunny? Oh, you bet.

Still, looking at the pill box in her hand while she walked, she was damn glad she'd gone in and blurted it out. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to go to the bathroom without pain again, but she certainly hoped she'd experience it again pretty soon. And after her sulking period had elapsed, she'd probably find it in her heart to utter a thank-you, no matter how quiet or grudging it would be.


	32. Near Death Experience

**.**

**THIRTY-TWO**

**Gates of Camp McCarran**

**July 7th**

**17:36**

"McCarran National Airport?" Watkins read out loud in her nasal voice.

"Well read, sweetie-pie," Sunny snarked.

"She reads better than you do," En felt obliged to point out. "As in, from farther away."

"Ladies, please," Ringo scolded wearily. "Your bickering's starting to wear on my nerves."

He had a point, En supposed. She'd been giving everyone the silent treatment the whole walk, except for the occasional acidic remark if she saw the occasion, and Sunny and Watkins, though briefly sisters-in-arms concerning the doctor-thing, had gradually reverted back to their old relation, Watkins trotting along being all cheerful la-la happy princess, and Sunny never missing an opportunity to put her down, which in reality, only drew attention to her own insecurity.

Things had changed so much since they'd left, the three of them, in high spirits and close-knit by the long road they all had ahead and which they'd started together. And only after a week or two, Sunny had become a clingy, needy, insecure woman constantly acting as if she had to stop other people from stealing her friends and partner. Ringo hadn't changed that much, but still, en didn't rightly know if the relationship he now had with Sunny was a positive influence on either of them, and the days when there were just the three of them, free of worries and conflict, seemed to lie far in the past.

En wanted those days back, but there was no way she was going to swallow her pride for it.

Still holding the golf club, Ringo said, "Let's just go in and get our money."

As they walked up to the two sentries flanking the steel door set in the massive wall around Camp McCarran, the eyes of one of them widened. "Holy shit, is that… dang, the Major's gonna cream his pants when he sees that." So he'd noticed the golf club in Ringo's hand. Well, at least they knew who to see for the reward now.

"Where do we find the Major, soldier?" Ringo asked him.

"Should be at the command tent, sir."

"Thanks."

There wasn't much left of the old airfield, except for the terminal. Where were the planes? The control tower? All the shit En had seen in movies whenever they featured an airport? Even the tarmac was gone, reduced to dry earth, as everything else in the Wastes.

In the place of all the airport-stuff stood a cluster of tents, a few sandbag walls seemingly haphazardly erected around the camp, and targets set against the far wall. Weary troopers trudged through the camp, seemingly weighted down by their own rifles. Morale seemed at an all-time high. A trooper wearily told them to take a seat at the benches and that Major Dhatri would be with them shortly.

"Good thing Melissa isn't here," Ringo remarked to the others, pointing at the flag above one of the tents. "That's the emblem of the 1st Recon. The role they played at Bitter Springs is as obscure as it is questionable."

"Ringo, will you _please_ tell me what happened in Bitter Springs?" En asked. Everyone seemed to dance around the issue like it was a boiling, stinking sore.

"I thought you were sick of history?" Sunny said.

"It's something that's driving people in my group apart, _Sunny_."

"Oh, _your_ group?" Sunny shot back.

En rolled her eyes. "The group I am part of."

It was Leza's turn to sigh in irritation. "Guys, come on, stop already?"

"Listen to the woman, you two," Ringo said, earning him an angry look from Sunny that he didn't notice. "And miss En, you're right, you should know what happened in Bitter Springs. There's the benches that soldier told us to wait at, let's have a seat and I'll tell you. Melissa and I have been dodging the explanation long enough."

"_Finally_."

They sat down on the benches, around the burnt-out remains of a fire, and Ringo took the last bottle of beer out of his pack. "It's warm, but it'll do." The bottle made a _kcht_-sound as he uncapped it. He took a swill then passed it around. Sunny got it first, took a swallow, then passed it to Watkins, where it stayed.

"I'm kinda curious now too?" Watkins said, looking at the label on the beer bottle.

Ringo sighed and started talking. "See, it's like this. NCR and the Great Khans were never affectionate with each other. Ever since the Khans abducted the daughter of the Shady Sands village headman, over a hundred years ago, the situation has been extremely volatile."

"A hundred years ago?" Watkins asked, wide-eyed. "I thought the Khans were like, just a gang of losers that just… I dunno, appeared outta nowhere a year or two ago?"

Sunny snorted. "Your sheltered life hasn't done you any favours, blondie."

Watkins ignored the barb, and Ringo said, "No, no, the Khans have been around for a long time."

"Yeah," En contributed, "the statue girl even got into trouble with them at some point. They were led by a guy called, ummm, Deron or Dairon or something."

"You and your statue girl," was all Sunny had to say to that. Let her be bilious if she must.

"Yes, well," Ringo went on, "at present, the Khans and NCR are still bitterly embroiled in conflict. And Bitter Springs only aggravated the situation."

"_So_, Ringo," En insisted, "what _happened_ at Bitter Springs?"

"Patience, miss En, patience. Before I tell you that story, it's important that you know the history behind it."

"Ugh, more history. You sound like my dad."

"I shall take that as a compliment. Now, the Khans were always a thorn in the NCR's side, but as they amplified their chem-dealing and their incursions into NCR territory, something had to be done. So the NCR command gave the order to intercept the majority of their numbers at Bitter Springs."

"Okay, _now_ we're finally getting to the relevant stuff?" Watkins said, still holding the bottle of beer.

"Everything is relevant in such an account, miss Watkins," Ringo scolded. "And kindly stop hogging the beer." Taking the bottle from her, he continued. "The First Recon, the NCR's elite sniper team, was to be the main asset in the operation, providing the long-range fire to eliminate key Khan personnel so the foot soldiers could descend upon the disoriented and leaderless body and annihilate them."

"Khans fight like madmen hand-to-hand, though, so they didn't really descend on them, much as fire in the crowd until they were dead," Sunny added. "Like a shooting gallery, right?" There was a noticeable edge of reproach in her voice, and it wasn't due to the current group tensions.

"War is Hell, Sunny," Ringo said flatly. "Let's not gloss over the fact that these people were robbing, raping and killing NCR civilians in their deluded bid for territory."

"The Khans are constantly going on about murder and war crimes though," En said. "I don't like people killing each other, but so far it all seemed to be a case of 'it's war', right?"

Sunny chuckled at that.

"Indeed, miss En. And it was supposed to be nothing more than war."

"But that's not how it turned out?" Watkins asked cautiously.

"How very perceptive," Sunny snarked.

Both En and Watkins rolled their eyes at Sunny's behaviour, while Ringo answered, "No, miss Watkins. You see, when the Khans came into sight, it turned out, well…"

"It wasn't just soldiers, right?" Sunny said, not being acidic for once.

"I'd rather say it was everything _but_ soldiers," Ringo sighed. "The Khans had indeed mobilized towards Bitter Springs, but it turned out NCR command had the wrong intel. There weren't any fighters among them, only women, children and the elderly."

Watkins winced, "Oh no." En too knew where this was going.

"Accounts of what happened next vary. Some claim they didn't know they were civilians, others claim the knew but that command ordered them to fire anyway, and yet others actually manage to sound proud of themselves that they opened fire on civilians."

"So they just… slaughtered them?" Watkins asked in disgust.

"Just about. It's highly likely that First Recon initiated the operation, but once the first round was fired, all bets were off and even soldiers that at first refused to shoot probably opened fire as well, not knowing what was going on."

"So they just…" En asked.

"Gunned down every man, woman and child, indeed," Ringo said, passing the beer to Watkins. "Some of the NCR command still feels entirely justified about it."

"What about you?" En needed to know he didn't also.

He shifted uncomfortably, and said, "I wasn't there. I'm just really hoping it was a mistake that was only realized afterwards."

"Come on," Sunny snorted. "Those First Recon guys were snipers. No way they didn't see."

"I've been thinking the same thing. Then I at least hope command misinterpreted or didn't receive the message. At any rate, as I've said, I wasn't there."

"That's a bit of a lame cop-out?" Watkins pointed out.

"I'm not for the wanton slaughtering of civilians," Ringo said to that. "But I also know that in war, mistakes are made, and I'm also not for letting a bunch of rabble terrorize your citizens."

"Me, I just wish everyone would stop killing each other," En sighed. She wasn't wholly satisfied with Ringo's answer, but she also knew everyone looked at things through their own eyes, and with their own history in mind.

"You the civilians who wanted to see me?" a male voice came from behind En. The man standing behind her had a dark, weathered skin and a bushy black beard, and wore standard NCR armour, only with a golden insignia on the chest, a rank insignia En couldn't identify.

"If you're Major Dhatri, then yes," Ringo said, rising.

"That's right, I am. How can I help you?"

En proudly presented him the golf club, beaming with a smile as wide as her face.

"My, my," Dhatri purred, visibly awed. "Driver Nephi seems to have hit his last birdie. Hope it was painful."

En shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He's dead, that's important, right?"

He nodded, "Absolutely."

"Hey, you forget to shout 'fore,' I ruin your day," En said.

That got a chuckle out of Dhatri. "I'll get you your reward as promised. You seem awfully young to be doing this, but will you be trying to bring in the other two bounties as well?"

Uh, what? "What bounties?"

He lit a cigarette, looking at En, surprised. "You don't know about the other two? This was just a lucky coincidence then?"

"Sorta yeah."

"I see." He sat down on the last empty bench, producing a few folded-up papers from his armour. "I actually put out three bounties. Nephi was one of them. Other two were Violet and Cook-Cook. I'm especially eager to get Cook-Cook's head on a stick."

"Why's that?" Watkins asked, only half-interested.

"Because he raped one of my soldiers, that's why," Dhatri said fiercely.

"Oh," Watkins could only say. "Yeah, I can see how that could… umm…"

"Exactly." He turned back to En. "You interested, kiddo?"

"Uh, yeah, we need the money, right?" She looked at the others.

"That is the reality of the situation," Ringo only said.

"What about that Violet woman, what'd she do?"

"Sell bad drugs to civilians, vandalized NCR property, killed several civilians and two confirmed NCR soldiers. And uh," he cleared his throat, "threw dog shit at the C.O.'s office."

"Alright, give us the info."

He nodded. "You can find both of them somewhere west of here, in the derelict old buildings. You wanna find Cook-Cook, just follow the smell of burned meat. He makes all the Fiends' meals. As for Violet, follow the dog turds."

"The literal dog turds?" Sunny asked.

"Yes ma'am. Violet's a mean one, but her dogs are even meaner."

"Aw," Sunny said, scratching Cheyenne behind the ear. "We gotta kill dogs?"

Dhatri chuckled. "They're not fine specimens as yours is, ma'am. They're mean, evil monsters. Anyway, I can't spare the men, they're tired and stretched thin as it is."

"We'll shoot 'em in the face for you," Watkins said, suddenly determined. "We need the money and the world needs less bastards, right?"

"Yeah," En agreed. "I guess."

"How dangerous are these two?" Ringo asked.

"Dangerous enough not to send my own men, that's for sure. They shoot anything in NCR colours on sight."

"Don't you have the First Recon camping right there?" Ringo asked with a nonplussed frown.

"Like using a bulldozer to find a china cup, mister."

"So, on the one hand," Sunny asked, "you think those Fiends are too dangerous to send your men after, but they're not dangerous enough to use your extra special boys for?"

"That's about it, miss."

"Nice logic."

He shrugged. "It is what it is. As it happens now, it's a good opportunity to make some money for you."

"Speaking of money," En said, "We're not about to forget that you still need to pay us."

With a chuckle, Dhatri produced several paper strips from the pouch at his belt. "I wasn't about to forget either. Trade these at the Quartermaster's. Into the terminal building there, head to the back of the concourse. Sergeant Contreras will convert these scrips into caps for you."

En pocketed the paper strips. "Thanks! Would it be okay if we spent the night here?"

"Sure, why not. Clear it with Colonel Hsu first, just so he knows. Tell 'im you killed Driver Nephi and he'll probably give you his own quarters. Well, not really."

"Cool, thanks, Major."

"Sure. And by the way, all of you?"

All four replied with some sort of acknowledgement.

"I overheard you talking about Bitter Springs. You might want to steer clear of that subject around here. Many soldiers have strong feelings about that issue, and those feelings aren't always expressed with the virtue of temperance, if you see what I mean."

"Sure," En said, "But I was just wondering what happened, you know?"

"I know. But even if you stick to the objective facts, you'll catch flak."

"Not as much as we would catch if we mentioned it at Red Rock Canyon, I daresay," Ringo said.

"You can say that again," Dhatri agreed, flicked his cigarette butt away and as he turned, told them, "Happy hunting, stay s afe out there."

"We'll be careful," En said as he walked away.

"I suggest," Ringo said calmly, "that we spend the first of those scrips on a fresh bottle of beer."

That made Watkins grin sheepishly. "Sorry, I was thirsty."

"Then you don't get a drink of the next bottle," Sunny said. "Only fair."

"Meanies?"

They rose from the benches and trudged to the terminal building. As they did so, a woman with short blonde hair, sunglasses and a red beret walked past them, stopped, and whistled.

"That… wasn't at me, I hope?" Ringo said quietly.

The woman had heard though, and spun on her heels, "No, little man, I was whistling at the three hotties you've got with you. Well, some hotter than others," she added, with a shameless wink at Watkins. Both En and Sunny were struck dumb at the blatant insult.

"Um, not only am I _not_ into women," Watkins explained with her nasal, valley girl voice, "I'm also, like, _way_ out of your league."

The female soldier put her hands in her sides and said, her nose in the air, "Girl, one night with me and you'll see I play the national league."

"She's not interested," En said fiercely. "But maybe you have a chance with us ugly chicks?"

"Dunno, kid, feel like getting schooled? I've never had 'em that young before. And I prefer some tits on a girl, but I'll settle for teaching you some sex 101."

"Tch," En blew. "I prefer a realistic self-image on a partner, but I'll settle for teaching you some manners 101."

"Tough kid, huh?" the woman said with a smirk. "Don't worry, I'm not interested. You're gonna have to eat a lot of sandwiches before you fill out and start looking like a woman."

The remarks were rather hurtful, or at least intended to be, but En merely shrugged and said, "I'd rather look like a pretty boy than an ugly woman."

"Miss En, that's enough?" Ringo attempted to intervene.

The woman's eyebrow went up. "You calling me ugly?"

"Yeah, and hard of hearing now too."

"En, come on," Sunny interrupted. "Let it go."

"No, no, it's alright," the soldier said, eager to continue the verbal sparring. "Let her do her worst."

"You haven't seen my worst yet," En pressed on. "You're probably only chasing girls because no man would ever touch you."

The woman's face instantly changed, going completely slack, and the next second, tears welled up in her eyes. What the Hell? Even En was surprised at the sudden metamorphosis.

"Whoa," she said, "you told me to do my worst."

"Yeah," the soldier peeped, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow. "I did. My own fault."

Sunny gently put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Hey… you okay?"

Sniffing hard, the soldier wiped her face and composed herself, shrugging Sunny's hand away gently. "I'm alright. I'm alright." She clearly had all the effort in the world to fight back more tears, but she did, putting her sunglasses back on. "Stupid of me to go picking fights when I'm like this. I need to go."

"Hey," En called after her, "Sorry?"

The woman raised a hand in a half-hearted gesture that could mean many things, and hurried back to her tent. It was the one with the 1st Recon flag.

"… What was that about?"

"I don't know, miss En," Ringo said, "but you really need to learn to keep control of that damn mouth of yours. This one got devastated by your insults, the next one might get violent."

"Um, Ringo? She, like, totally brought it on herself?" Watkins argued.

"I don't care," Ringo snapped. "You can't go around insulting soldiers in their own base!"

En shrugged. "Shouldn't start what you can't finish."

"That big bratty mouth of yours is going to get us all into trouble someday, miss En!"

"Hey, hun, calm down, okay?" Sunny, surprisingly, joined in. "She shouldn't have gone running her mouth like that, but that dyke was asking for it."

"Doesn't matter," Ringo grunted, still angry but realizing Sunny had a point. "You need to know which fights to pick and which to let go."

"Then I made the right choice, didn't I?" En couldn't resist rubbing in his face. "She's off with her tail between her legs."

"Ugh," Ringo sighed. "Just forget about it. Just know that if someone punches you in the mouth or pushes a gun up your nose, I'm not gonna save you."

"Um, _Ringo_?" Watkins insisted, "It was, like, her _own_ fault?"

"I said forget about it, god dammit!'"

"Hey!" Watkins protested, indignant. "Don't get all snippy at _me_?"

"Let's not get snippy at anyone," an unfamiliar voice interrupted the conversation. "Sorry about Betsy, she's… a bit damaged. I'm Lieutenant Gorobets, squad leader of this 1st Recon group."

Greetings of various degrees of enthusiasm were offered.

"I'd like to ask you to leave her be for now," the Lieutenant said. "But Major Dhatri said you were the people going after Cook-Cook, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Let us know when you're heading out. Someone will definitely want to come with you."

"Uh… sure?"

"Thanks. Appreciate it." With that, he saluted and headed back to his tent.

Without much more comment, Ringo simply said, "Let's go find a place to sleep. This day needs to be over real quick."

"Yeah. Let's all have a good night's sleep and bicker some more over coffee," En agreed.

The terminal building was in bad repair, like just about anything in the Wastes, the tiles caked with dirt, the check-in counters either toppled or disappeared entirely. A model propeller plane had miraculously managed to stay suspended by its steel cables, which, though rusted, still somehow looked robust enough. The old signs had been mostly torn away, but one remained, with a big arrow and the lettering saying CONCOURSE. Another sign had been tacked to it, saying C.O.'s OFFICE. The arrow to the concourse pointed up and left, the one to the C.O.'s office simply went left, pointing at an open door at the end of the terminal.

The Colonel rose from his seat, looking weary but friendly enough. "Civilians? What brings you here?"

"Uh, hi," En stammered, "we're uh… we came to collect the bounty on Driver Whatshisface."

"Driver Nephi?" his face lit up.

"Yeah. Your Major already gave us scrips, but he said we had to check with you for a place to stay?"

"But he's dead? Driver Nephi?"

"Deader than dead dodo dirt!"

He threw himself down in his chair and sighed in relief. "That is… very good news indeed."

"Is there anywhere we can sleep tonight, major?" Ringo insisted.

"Absolutely. There's two vacant prisoner cells on the mezzanine, right by the entrance to the concourse. They're open, but the doors are bar doors, so best sleep in your clothes, ladies."

"Yeah," Sunny said cautiously. "Not really keen on seeing the entire Camp McCarran garrison huddled at our doors."

"Don't think we need to squabble about the room division?" En said after they'd thanked the C.O. and begun heading towards the concourse.

"Uh, no," Watkins replied, "Unless you're gonna be all sulky all the time, then I'll just sleep with Sunny and Ringo and you can sleep alone?"

Sunny's eyes narrowed, "Don't think so, but I'm sure you can find a lonely soldier to shack up with."

Sunny's bitchy comment didn't have the effect it intended. Rather than acting all wounded, Watkins actually seriously considered what Sunny had said. "Mmmyeah, maybe. I didn't get any yesterday after all?"

"Leza," En grunted, "if you don't wanna bunk with me, fine, sleep in the damn hallway then."

Watkins shrugged. "I don't mind sharing a room with you, but it'd be totally not uncool of all of you to stop acting like ten-year-olds?"

"I'm still in my teens so I'm allowed."

They'd reached the top of the stairs, and passed the big double doors leading to the concourse. The cells were at the end of the hallway, two frugal prison cells with only a bucket and two benches each. Still, it was better than sleeping outside in the open. They chucked their packs inside (surely the NCR guys wouldn't steal their stuff), and En went on to exchange the NCR scrips at the Quartermaster's office, while Sunny and Ringo went to look around on the tarmac, which was apparently on the other side of the terminal building, and Watkins went off on a quest for a clean restroom. Contreras was a rather unfriendly and jumpy type, but he cashed her scrips without too much hassle. As she returned to the prison cells, she saw an NCR Lieutenant shout at her Sergeant, something about the prisoner not co-operating and the Sergeant damn better finding a way to make him speak. The Lieutenant was the very first actually pretty woman En had seen in the NCR army so far. The snarl she pulled her face in was anything but pretty though. The Sergeant seemed nothing short of utterly cowed by her anger, shrinking more and more as the Lieutenant let her wrath thunder over him. As En passed, the Lieutenant briefly looked at her and snapped, "What are _you_ looking at, _civilian_?"

"You, actually." En answered. "Can't rage like that and then expect people to act like they don't see you."

"Guess you've got a point," she rapped curtly. "Now stop bothering me, kid, I'm busy."

"Um, I was just walking past. _You_ asked _me_ what I was looking at," En couldn't resist pointing out. It was a bad idea, she knew it was, always did, but her mouth would never listen.

The Lieutenant put her hands in her sides. "Trying to be smart, huh?"

She shrugged. "One of us has to be." The Sergeant behind the woman winced as he heard it. En told herself to shut up, but it didn't work. It never did.

The Lieutenant jabbed a finger at her. Her jaw worked and one of her eyes began to twitch. En knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she was so hooked to that feeling, that sense of accomplishment when she made someone lose their temper and fly into a towering rage. "Kid, you're trying my patience," she threatened.

It was then En saw the prisoner sitting on a chair behind a thick glass wall, his elbows on his knees, watching the altercation and the Lieutenant's growing anger with a smirk on his face. "Looks like I'm not the only one." She nudged her chin at the glass, and the prisoner behind it, clad in strange sundry armour pieced together by what looked like scrap metal, and a blood red cloak flowing down his back. "That guy also seems to be enjoying your drama."

"My _drama_? Kid, I'm _this_ close to tearing my stripes off and banging your stupid mousy face against that glass until that Legion bastard sees nothing but blood and teeth!"

"You're gonna have to," En said, "because right now the only one showing her teeth is you."

"I'm gonna be showing you my _fist_ in half a second if you don't shut up, I'm warning you!"

En's inner voice told her to cut it the fuck out, but she never had control of herself in situations like these. She asked the Sergeant, "Hey is there a heating exhaust around here, because there's a lot of hot air suddenly coming from somewhere." The Sergeant didn't dare reply, or do anything else than stand mortified. A trooper on the other side of the glass, however, hastily let the blinds fall so the prisoner was obscured from view, his further enjoyment denied.

"Kid," the Lieutenant snarled, one hand balled into a fist and one with the index pointed at En. "Don't fucking push me! Last _fucking_ warning!"

"Oh, so _that_ was my last warning? Cause I've lost count of the last warnings I've had already."

"I'm serious you little rat! This is your last! G_od damn_! Warning!"

"Wait, so _this_ was the last warning then?"

"That's it," the Lieutenant snapped, pulling the rank stripes off her shoulder, taking her beret off and throwing it to the ground. "This little shit's about to have herself an accident."

Oh crap, En realized, she'd done it again. Why couldn't she just leave that shit alone? Her stomach contracted into a hard ball and her knees began to shake, the muscles of her back and abdomen trembling. "Whoa hey – " she began, but the Lieutenant had grabbed her by the collar and dragged her to the railing of the mezzanine, En's boots thudding on the tiles but finding no grip. "Hey, let me _go_!" she shouted at the woman holding her, but the Lieutenant's face was contorted in rage, and no amount of protest would change that now.

"B-but Lieutenant," the Sergeant began to object, unheard. "Lieutenant, they're gonna… "

"Let's see if your skull's as tough as your tongue," the Lieutenant snarled, spittle flying from her lips and in En's face. En's arms flailed and her feet tried frantically to get a grip on the tiles as she was being dragged towards the railing, but the woman was far too strong and she felt herself almost being lifted up, falling backwards while the Lieutenant's grip on her collar held her up. As the small of her back hit the railing, En found herself almost unable to stop herself from calling for Melissa.

"You're about to go sailin', you little rat," the Lieutenant hissed at her. The drop down was at least five metres, and if the impact didn't break her skull apart right there and then, she'd at least have every bone in her body broken. Panic overtook her and her vision blurred with tears. Why'd she have to push this woman? Why did she always have to push? Ringo had been right, sooner or later someone would simply snap and kill her where she stood. She was never going home to mom and dad and Allison and Christopher, never going to introduce Sunny and Ringo to them, she was going to die here, her head smashed open on the tiles below, her brains burst out of her head and Sunny and Ringo and Watkins seeing her dead body, her dead face with her tongue out of her mouth and her dead brains outside of her head, En Tessara reduced to a revolting and undignified piece of dead stinking meat.

The Lieutenant lifted her up, her feet no longer touching the ground, and as En felt her weight slowly tilting over the railing, the other said, "Say goodnight."

"No, _please_," En begged, "Please, I'm _sorry_!" But as she flailed her arms, she felt the woman inexorably pushing her over the railing.

"Carrie!"

The force pushing her paused, leaving her half-suspended over the safety rail, the depth of the ground below still greedily clawing at her shoulders and the back of her skull.

"CARRIE!"

The name sent a jolt through the arms holding her, but the grip did not loosen.

"Have you gone crazy? Put that civilian down _right now_."

As En opened her eyes, she saw the confused and startled eyes of the Lieutenant looking into hers. Then the next moment, the hands pulled her away from the railing and her feet touched ground again, the feeling pushing a shaky sigh of relief out of En's lungs. Her headache swelled to an unbearable level and her knees gave out, sending her crumpling to the ground. Her body started shaking and another seizure took her.

"Oh shit, oh shit," she heard the Lieutenant whimper. "What have I done?"

En felt herself shake and kick, her muscles spasming beyond her control, wheezy growls escaping her lips. In the maelstrom of confusion her mind had turned into, she could only clearly realize one thing, and that was that she was having a seizure, twitching and spasming and drooling right in front of everybody.

"Someone help," she heard the panicked Lieutenant's voice from far away. "Medic! _Medic_! Someone! This kid's having a heart attack! Oh God oh god, what have I done?"

The Sergeant's voice joined hers. "Medic! We need a medic here!"

Footsteps ran towards her and as En continued kicking and thrashing on the ground, a calmer male voice said, "It's alright, calm down, it's not a heart attack… looks like an epileptic seizure."

The Lieutenant again, "So _do_ something!"

"Nothing I _can_ do," the other man barked. "All we can do is wait it out." As if her body was in another place, it registered stimuli as if they came from light years away, and from that place, she felt something being slid under the back of her head. Her muscles continued to buck and jerk, and she felt the back of her head repeatedly butting into the soft thing under it.

More footsteps and she heard a voice she'd heard before shout, "Carrie, what the Hell?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I just… I lost my head."

"And if I hadn't stopped you? What then?"

There was no answer to that. Slowly, En's muscles calmed, the shrieking in her head quieted and the pain in her head came down to a more bearable level.

"Think she's just about through," the medic's voice said.

Abruptly, the pulses through her muscles fell away and En felt her entire body go slack. "There we go," the medic said. "Now I may be just a Corporal, but I want everybody to clear out while she gets her wits back."

"But…" En heard the Lieutenant say, miles away.

"You heard the Corporal, Lieutenant," the Colonel ordered. "My office, _right now_."

"… Yes sir."

"And Corporal, when she's back on her feet, I want to see her as well."

"Yes, sir."

The voices came from even farther away now. "If she presses charges, Carrie, you have any idea what I'll be forced to do?"

"… I know, sir."

The medic's voice spoke to her, a few miles closer. "Hey miss, feeling better?"

"Ugh… I thuh… thought I was guh… gonna die."

"Nah, you'll be okay. It was a big seizure, but those things don't kill you."

"No, I meant… when she…"

"When she what?"

"… Nothing." It was better not to say. Shit, what a mess.

"Can you sit up?"

"I think so."

Running footsteps approached, along with a panicked nasal voice. "Ennie?"

"Miss," the medic said, "I need you to step away for a moment."

"Is she alright? Did she have another one?"

"If you mean a seizure, then yes, but please, miss, I'll speak to you later, let her get her breath back first."

"… alright."

"I'm… okay Leza," En managed to say. "Worst is over."

"Aww, geez?"

"If you can stand up, miss," the medic said, "I think the Colonel expects you in his office."

Oh shit, that too. This was gonna suck.


	33. Revelations

**.**

**THIRTY-THREE**

**Camp McCarran, Colonel Hsu's office**

**July 7th**

**22:02**

"First and foremost," Colonel Hsu asked En as she was sitting in his office, the Lieutenant that had almost chucked her over the railing and to her death sitting next to her and staring at her boots. "Are you alright, miss?"

You mean, apart from the thundering headache, feeling like a complete idiot, and the crushing shame of knowing everyone in the camp had seen her kick and thrash on the ground with foam on her lips?

"… Yeah. I'm okay."

"Good," the Colonel asked. "Then I won't have to worry about asking you what the Hell is wrong with you!"

En wrung her hands in her lap, unsure what to say.

"I don't know what was said, but what I do know is Lieutenant Boyd hereHell

, one of my best MPs, completely lost her mind after talking to you. So what the Hell happened?"

"We just…" En began, still not knowing how to explain and still looking at her lap, "… kinda mouthed off to each other and it… I dunno, went from bad to worse." She briefly risked a look at the Lieutenant next to her, but the woman was still looking at the ground.

"Well, kid," Hsu thundered on, "this puts me in a very uncomfortable situation. Lieutenant Boyd's one of my best, and because of you, I can see no other option than to court martial her for assaulting a civilian, a _minor_ to boot. And that would mean, _at the least_, her dishonourable discharge."

En risked another glance at the Lieutenant and saw her cringe ever so slightly. "Look, it was my fault that it happened, okay?" En tried to reason. "If I hadn't been a brat, she wouldn't have – "

"Did you assault Lieutenant Boyd?" Hsu asked, his slanted eyes narrowing.

"Well, no, but – "

"Then in the eyes of the law, it's her fault!" Hsu shouted. "Because 'she was asking for it' doesn't amount to jack during trial!"

The woman certainly had been wrong to want to throw her over a railing, but she wouldn't have gone over the proverbial edge if En hadn't cheerfully given her a few pushes. So En certainly didn't think she deserved to get kicked out of the Army, or worse, sentenced to jail. "Can't we just… pretend it never happened? If I don't press charges – "

"There's plenty of witnesses, including a few troopers who'd be none too sad if Lieutenant Boyd were to disappear!" Hsu shot down that possibility. "You can bet at least one of them will demand to 'see justice done'." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "God dammit Carrie."

The Lieutenant spoke for the first time. "I can't make excuses, sir. I'd almost thrown a minor over the railing." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "At least you managed to stop me and no one's gotten hurt."

"Yes. Thank God for that. But I've got my back against the wall here. Carrie, I'm _so_ sorry, but – "

"Alright, so I assaulted her," En blurted out. "I walked past her, she said 'hi', and I heard her wrong, thought she said, 'your mother is a big smelly pile of doo-doo', so I took off my glove and slapped her with it, like an eighteenth-century pansy."

Hsu rested his forehead on his hand. "Miss…", but the Lieutenant's eyes lit up ever so slightly.

"No, seriously, it could happen," En insisted. "So she grabbed me by the collar and gave me a push, you know, just to get me off her, for my own safety of course, and I tripped and almost fell over the railing, but _thank God_ she still had a hold of me, or I would've gone over." Acting dead serious, she looked the Colonel in the eye, and like a witness to a grand rescue operation beset by journalists, held a hand on her heart and said gravely, "Colonel, Lieutenant Boyd is a hero. She saved my life."

Lieutenant Boyd said, without much energy but with a flicker of hope barely perceptible below the surface, "Nice of you kid, but I don't deserve – "

"'Shut up, Boyd," Hsu snapped. "And you're what, fifteen?" he asked En.

En crossed her arms, her nose in the air. "_Six_teen."

"Excellent," Hsu cheered, his face excited. "You're a minor so I'd be entirely justified in just giving you a warning and a slap on the wrist!"

"Isn't that story a bit ridiculous? I mean, people probably saw me threaten her and all," Boyd sighed.

"Ridiculous or not," Hsu said, his good cheer returned, "if both parties agree to this sequence of events, then there won't be a damn thing any witnesses can do about it."

Boyd seemed not to dare believe it. "Are you sure this will work?"

Hsu nodded enthusiastically. "Miss, would you sign a statement describing what you just said?"

En shrugged. "Sure. I mean, there's no excuse for trying to chuck me off a railing, but I _was_ asking for it."

"Brilliant!" The Colonel began typing on his computer keyboard. "Your name?"

"En Tessara."

"Okay, so A-N-N – "

"No, no," En quickly corrected. "Not Anne. En. Ee-en."

"That short f – "

"_No_. Then Tessara, T-E-S-S-A-R-A."

"Uh… right." He resumed typing. "So, file number 25335, En Tessara, civilian, versus Lieutenant Carrie Boyd, NCR Military Police."

Colonel Hsu quickly drafted up a hasty relation of events, sticking to the fake version En had suggested and finalizing with the statement that the civilian had been reprimanded and the incident was considered closed. "There we go," he said while the printer wailed. "I'll need you both to sign this and then we can put this behind us."

Lieutenant Boyd re-read the incident report, then gingerly signed her name, saying, "This is lying on an official document but…"

En took the paper from her after she'd signed and then completed her sentence, "… it's for a good cause. Now stop complaining before I change my mind." She signed the paper and added in scrawled handwriting 'sorry I was such a naughty girl, I'll be good now', drawing a little smiley face after it.

Colonel Hsu gave the signed paper a glance, giving En a you-silly-kid look after he saw the writing she'd added, then slipped the paper into a folder and filing it away in the cabinet behind him. "Then that's that. Carrie, you won't object to three weeks of dishwashing duty starting today?"

She managed a faint smile. "No, Sir."

"Good, good. Unless you two have anything left to say to each other…?"

"I do," Lieutenant Boyd said, finally able to look at En. "I don't know whether to be angry at you or thank you, so I guess I'll just say thanks?"

Apologizing simply wasn't something En was good at, so she stuck to, "That's okay, nobody got hurt, and, well, sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain."

"Thank you, miss," Boyd said, completely earnest. "I mean it. You could have ended my career right here and now, but you didn't. Even though this whole thing was your fault, you set it right, thank you."

"Let's just call it even," En settled the matter.

"Gladly."

With a grin, Hsu told them both, "Now get out of my sight."

En was greeted by a concerned-looking Watkins, a disapproving Sunny and a downright angry-looking Ringo, who stood with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Ennie, you okay?" Watkins asked right away.

"Yeah, fine, it's all settled. Everything's cool."

"Everything's _not_ cool," Sunny said. And then, to Boyd, "You should know better, you nut job. Trying to push a kid off a balcony."

Lieutenant Boyd was not about to let herself get intimidated by bystanders. Lighting a cigarette, she asked, "And just who are you? This was between her and me. She said it was cool, I don't see what this has to do with you?"

"It has everything t – " Sunny began, but Ringo interrupted her, "Miss En, if the Colonel hadn't intervened at the critical moment, you would have been thrown off a balcony. If this does not educate you as to the dangers of your bedamned big mouth, then nothing will."

Boyd took a drag from her cigarette and chuckled. "So you do this often, huh kid?"

Unable to suppress a grin, En said, "All the time. Drives my friends batshit."

"My point stands," Ringo insisted. "There won't always be a Colonel Hsu to save you. And I damn well won't either."

Sunny laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, hun. I think she's learned her lesson now."

"Um, guys?" Watkins tried to settle the matter. "All's well that ends well, right?"

"Exactly," En said. "Can we let it go now?"

"Hey I've been thinking," the Lieutenant said out of the blue. "The way you can get under people's skin is pretty uh… dubiously impressive. I've got something I could use a hand with."

"Does it involve making the veins in someone's forehead throb?" En asked with a broad grin of anticipation. She'd hung over a railing half an hour ago and already she was keyed up for the next time she could make someone howl in rage. She really would never learn.

"Yes it does," Boyd said. "I've got a prisoner who's a tough nut to crack, and I could use a hand during the interrogation. Figured I'd try putting him in a room with the most obnoxious brat I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It isn't. But I'd appreciate the help, and if it works out, I'm sure we could give you some sort of reward."

Helping out with an interrogation. Seemed like a pretty safe way to maybe earn something. "Fine," En said. "I'll see if I can't make him ram his head into the walls."

"Ennie, come on!" Watkins objected. "You just had this big-ass seizure?"

"So?"

"Sweetie, really?" Sunny asked. "Weren't they supposed to stop with the pills?" There was Sunny's mothering side again. En wished she'd make up her mind.

"Medication doesn't work overnight," Ringo grunted. "But Watkins is right. You need to rest. Though I suppose you'll throw that advice to the wind as well."

"Come on guys," En said. "It's just an interrogation. Not like I'm going to navigate a mine field in a rain of bullets with Meyers' dead grandma after me on a broomstick?"

"I'll be right there with her anyway," Boyd assured. "I don't like this kid one bit, but no one gets hurt on my watch."

"Except the ones you try to throw off a balcony," En couldn't resist clarifying.

Boyd shook her head. "This is why I don't like you, and this is why I could use your help."

"Well," Watkins said, "You do whatever you want, Ennie. Meanwhile me and Sunny and Ringo will sit by the campfire outside and have a beer?"

"Sunny, Ringo and I," Ringo corrected, still exceptionally sour. "And eat the food you doubtless brought from the quartermaster."

"Yeah, I brought food and drink. It's in the old sports bag I dropped when the good Lieutenant grabbed me."

"Alright," Sunny said, "don't push yourself too hard, okay? We'll see you at the campfire."

Ringo kept silent, but Watkins said with a broad grin, "You get to annoy people and get paid for it, bet you're happy?"

"Hey, we need to cash to get into Vegas, and yeah, it's about time my talents were recognized."

Lighting a new cigarette, Boyd said, "I can't guarantee I won't help our prisoner when he decides to give you a beating."

"Who'd beat a lovely face like this?" En asked.

"Well," Ringo said, with a very faint semblance of a grin, "You've been overdue for a good clip around the ear." Could it be that he was finding at least _some _good cheer back?

Boyd blew out smoke and said, "Come on."

They walked back to the place they'd first run into each other, in an uncomfortable silence. When they arrived, Boyd said, "You'll have to leave your weapons with the Sergeant. Tool belt too."

"What, we're going in there unarmed?"

"You are."

En unbuckled her gun and tool belts. "Great." Boyd gave her gun belt to the Sergeant as well, but she got an electrified baton in return. "Hey, can I have one of those too? I've been dying to try that out."

"No, you can't," Boyd said, glad to be able to refuse.

"Uh… Lieutenant?" the Sergeant asked cautiously. "You're going in there with _her_?"

"Yes I am, Sergeant."

"But… half an hour ago you were about to thr – '

"Things change. I know what I'm doing."

"As you say, Lieutenant."

"So uh," En asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Our prisoner here," Boyd explained. "You probably caught a glimpse of him when we were arguing. He's a Legion high-up, a centurion. Usually those commit suicide rather than get captured, but this one didn't. He let us take him in. And I want to know why."

"Maybe he's just a coward?" En suggested.

"Nu-uh. Don't think so. Even the most horrible threats we made didn't faze him. He's here for a reason, and I need to know why."

"Maybe that's his plan?"

"Mm?"

"Well, you know. Act like he's got valuable information, like he's planning something, and then feeding you something false."

Boyd flicked her cigarette away and was quiet for a moment. "I suppose it's possible. But I don't think so. He would have pretended to crack much earlier." Quietly and conspiratorially, she said to En, "I made some nasty threats, and I really mean _nasty_."

"You didn't threaten to chuck him off a b – "

"_No_." After a brief harrumph, she stuck to, "Much worse."

"If you say so."

"I do, and you better believe it. Sergeant Hornsby?"

"Ma'am?"

"We will begin interrogation now. Number CMC2281/070701-2."

The Sergeant made a note in a ledger, and opened the cell door. "All yours ma'am."

Boyd told En from the corner of her mouth, "They'll be able to see us through the plexiglass. We can rough him up a little, but no beatings or broken limbs."

Just as quietly, En told her, "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

The doors worked in an airlock fashion, with a trooper stationed inside of the cell, who could only open the inner door when the outer was closed, so the prisoner couldn't make a run for it. The soldier saluted, "Lieutenant."

Boyd didn't bother to salute back. "Corporal."

With a nod, the man withdrew from the cell, leaving Boyd and En alone with the prisoner.

"My favourite interrogator returns, bringing a friend. What an ugly little worm you are. What pile of excrement did the Lieutenant pick you from, worm?"

With a weary, unimpressed sigh, Boyd introduced the prisoner. "Meet Silus. He's a charmer."

"Yeah, so it seems." Silus, the prisoner in question, was a man clad in piecemeal armour, made up of what looked to be pieces of other suits, possibly taken as a trophy of some sort, because one of his arm guards was clearly a shoulder plate that had once belonged to another suit, emblazoned with a blue emblem of a sword wreathed with wings on a field of three gears. En knew where that plate had come from. Silus had shoulder-length, combad back hair above a waspish, narrow face, though his jaw was powerful. A sharp, slightly hooked nose and deep-set eyes beneath scowling eyebrows completed the picture. He could have looked handsome, if his face wasn't simply oozing with evil and sadism.

"So," Silus said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "More women. NCR men must be exceptionally pathetic that they need their women to do their dirty work for them."

"Well, I suppose it is a change from the Legion," En said, "and their man-loving ways." Her job was to rile the guy up and she planned to start right away.

Silus was unimpressed, however. Sniffing, he turned his head away. "Transparent, little worm. Too easy, too unimaginative. I feel almost indignant that you'd think such a feeble insult would get a response out of me." He turned to Boyd. "Do you harlots have any purpose here apart from making this cell stink of vagina?"

"I knew there was a smell of vagina here," En called to Silus, "I just thought it was yours."

That at least got a semi-approving chuckle out of him. "Still not very imaginative, but one point for effort."

"So um, Lieutenant Boyd told me something weird. You guys usually, you know," she drew a fist over her throat, "when you get captured. So what happened? Too chicken?"

Another self-satisfied chuckle. "I'm here because I want to be."

"Why?"

"Now if I told you that, it'd spoil the surprise, would it?"

"Aha. So there _is_ something you've got planned," Boyd said triumphantly. It was almost imperceptible in Silus' face, but they both saw it – no matter how tiny or insignificant, he'd said something he wasn't supposed to, and it was a small victory for the harlots.

Silus recovered quickly though. "Surely even a clot pole like you would have figured that out by now. Why else would I be here?"

"Maybe because you're simply a big coward who didn't have the guts to kill himself when it came down to it," En tried the same approach. "And now you're trying to bluff us into thinking you've got something big planned?"

Silus crossed his arms. "Believe whatever you want."

"What, you gonna sulk like a big baby now?" With a toddler voice, she prodded, "Is the wittwe baby angwee?"

Silus remained silent, he'd apparently realized that speaking was a bad idea at the moment.

"I wonder what your butt-buddies in the Legion would say though," En went on, "if they knew you'd let your little gimps die but didn't have the balls to kill yourself."

"I told you I was here for a reason."

"Yeah. Not being dead."

"Sure, if that's what you want to believe."

En's specialty was retorts, not initiating the insults, and this guy wasn't giving her much to work with right now. Time to try a different approach. "So what's your deal anyway? You Legion guys?"

He raised an eyebrow, lopsiding his frown. "Our _deal_?"

"Yeah, you know. Why you do stuff. Why you hate the NCR so much."

With a snort, Silus said, "Should be obvious even now. Two worthless women standing here to interrogate me and doing a worthless job of it. The NCR is so weak it's offensive."

"Weak, but here you are, in a cell, desperate to prove you're not a spineless coward," Boyd replied.

"I'm not trying to prove anything. Like I said, think whatever you want."

"Okay," En said. "Right now I'm thinking of you on your hands and knees taking it in the butt from some guy with an even bigger Roman fetish than you. Do they give you something to bite on when they go in? Or is it just a case of sucking it up and taking it like a man?"

"Don't make me laugh. I'm sure even at your age, your asshole's been a landing strip for half the Mojave already," Silus shot back. Good. If he bothered to return the insults, it meant En was getting to him, slowly but surely. "With this whore taking care of the other half, no doubt," he said with a chin nudge toward Boyd.

"Hey, don't drag me into this," Boyd protested, to En's irritated amazement. But she made it all better when she added, "I'm like you, Silus, I only do it with people of my own gender."

En wondered if she was for real or just pretending so she could goad him some more.

"Lovely," Silus grunted. "I get to share a cell with a despicable mercenary and a sexual deviant."

"And yet here you are. Chained like a dog," Boyd said. "Don't you wish you'd killed yourself now?"

"No, I find wishing I could kill you to be far more pleasing."

"Bah," En spat. "You talk tough, but you're just a worthless coward hiding behind his boyfriends."

"You'll talk different soon," Silus threatened. Good, good, just a little more.

"Why?" Boyd pressed on. "Thinking of crossing the Hoover Dam again any time soon? Your boys squealed like little bitches when we blew them apart. And those that were left, ran like a bunch of sissies."

"They were weak. They failed," Silus said fiercely. "They deserved to die."

"And what do you think they'll be saying about you now?" En said. "Silus was weak. Silus deserved to die, but he didn't! He was too big of a coward to even kill himself."

"What a worthless loser," Boyd added. "At least the failures at Hoover Dam died, but not Silus, no, he got captured like a dog. A coward. A _pig_."

"A weakling," En continued, "Submitting to the _NCR_."

"And you know what?" Boyd said, "When I put my boot down on Caesar's dying body, I'll make sure he knows it was Silus who betrayed him. Silus who was weak. Silus who was a coward."

"Keep going, you bitches," Silus snarled. "You don't know shit. And know this, before you die, I'll rape you both."

"You won't rape anyone," Boyd shot back. "Because you'll rot in a prison camp like a dog."

A sudden idea hit En, and before she fully realized what she was doing, she hawked and spat him right in the face. "Remember that, you coward, for the rest of your life stuck in a camp like a coward."

There was a brief moment, a very short instant where Silus lost control, and it was enough. Springing up from his chair, he launched himself at En, grabbing her throat with his cuffed hands and pressing his thumbs down on her larynx. En choked and flailed her arms, but the grip was iron. She felt the cartilage of her lazynx bending under the pressure of his thumbs, on the verge of collapse. "You'll pay for that! When your monorail's gone, you'll understand! And I'll be free and the entire _Legion_ will spit on your dying – "

A sudden shocking, jolting flash of pain went through En and Silus let out a stuttering, high pitched squeal. For a brief moment, the fingers around her throat tightened, so hard En's shuddering body registered that the cartilage couldn't take any more, and then the fingers fell away, and Silus went down on his knees and elbows, still shaking from the electrical blast Lieutenant Boyd had sent through him (and to a lesser extent, En) with her baton. "Be nice, Silus," she said, sounding completely casual. "We're just talking, right?" En managed to stay on her feet, but she had to seek support against the wall, her hands reflexively massaging her throat.

Silus fell over and rolled onto his back. "Y-you… you'll p-p-pay for…th – "

Boyd ignored him and asked En, "You alright?"

En realized she'd had her tongue out and closed her mouth. "Yeah. Thanks for electrocuting me."

With mischief in her eyes, Boyd offered a sarcastic "Sorry." She clearly hadn't minded the fact that the baton's charge had partially carried over to En.

"Man, he'd almost crushed my windpipe."

"Price of success," Boyd said. "Thanks, Silus. Going after the monorail, are you?"

"Bitch." Silus tried to get to his feet, but his muscles didn't obey him entirely so he only managed to get to one knee.

Boyd looked at En. "I think he's still violent. You think he's still violent?"

"Uh…"

Without waiting for her answer, Boyd smacked Silus in the face with her baton, without the electrical charge this time. The business end struck him in the mouth, bursting his lips and shattering his four front teeth with a dry _clack_. Silus yelped, clapped a hand over his mouth, and went back to both knees, doubled over.

"Geez, Carrie," En said. "That was kinda unnecessary."

"It's Lieutenant Boyd. And maybe not necessary, but well-deserved." She took a breath and let it back out contentedly. "Now, let's go put our new information to good use." As she hit the button to request opening of the airlock, she spoke into the intercom. "Get a medic in here for our prisoner." She looked back at Silus, who was trying to get back up, one hand still over his face. "Tell him no rush."

Still not in a good way impressed about the blow to Silus' face, En asked, "So what's the monorail?"

"That's no business of yours, I'll handle it from here. Thanks for the help."

"Uh… okay."

The second door to the airlock opened and they were back in the terminal building. "You're staying here for the night, right?"

"M-hm."

"Good. I'll report to the Colonel and we'll see about your reward."

"Sure, yeah."

Boyd fished a cigarette from her vest pocket and lit it, shielding it against the non-existing wind. "Thanks for the help," she repeated.

"It's cool."

"Don't think I like you now though."

That was unnecessary. Not only did En know that full well, but there was no reason to say it, not even 'just to make sure'. "Don't worry, I won't. I don't like you much either."

Boyd gave a curt nod, and said, "I'll make sure you get a reasonable reward tomorrow." With that, she spun on her heels and marched to the Colonel's office. En didn't exactly regret taking the fall for her earlier, but damn, a little recognition would've been nice.

"Don't mind the Lieutenant," the Sergeant said to her. "She's a good woman if you can look past the spines on her back."

"I'm sure." She wasn't, but what the Hell.

"Well, you sure got him riled up," the man said. "Though I don't know which was more impressive, that or getting Carrie to see red."

"Glad to know someone recognizes my talents," En said absently, looking at Boyd, still walking away. Strange woman. She forced herself to return to the present, and told the Sergeant, "Well, I'm gonna go have a beer and something to eat. See ya."

"Have a nice evening."

The evening air had cooled into a pleasant night chill. It'd be freezing cold in a few hours, but until then, it was nice weather for chowing down outside, especially if there was a campfire to keep them warm.

She saw the silhouettes of Watkins, Sunny and Ringo contrasting with the campfire. They'd changed into their more comfortable clothes. A few soldiers sat on the benches next to them. Watkins already had three beer bottles standing next to her butt on the bench. En would bet they were empty.

"So your father said, 'no way, sir, they stole out food, but they're still civilians', and the C.O. just stood there glaring at him'," one of the soldiers was telling Ringo, "but he caved and he let them go in the end."

Smiling at the story, Ringo took a swill from his beer bottle and said, "He had his faults, but he was a good man."

The soldier raised his cola bottle. "Good soldier too. I'll drink to that."

"Hey sweetie," Sunny said after noticing En. "So, did your interrogation go well?"

"Yep. We can expect a reward tomorrow. Not sure what."

Ringo had resumed talking to the soldier, but Watkins pulled a bottle out of the bag and held it out to her. "Beer for you?"

"Uh, sure. Bunch up."

Watkins bounced a bit to the side to give En some room to sit.

"Uh, isn't it kinda inconsiderate to drink beer while these soldiers are on break?"

Watkins shrugged and Sunny simply said, "They'd tell us if it was."

"Okay then." En uncapped the bottle and took a drink. It was cool, which was better than most of the beer she'd had in her life. "So, what's for dinner?"

"Uh, _you_ bought it?" Watkins pointed out.

"The can of baked beans and meatballs got our preference for today," Sunny said, pointing at the can set on a grill above the campfire. It seemed to be set high enough so the contents didn't stick to the can, but that meant it'd take ages to warm up. Ah well, plenty of time. On the benches, soldiers sat and rose, taking their short breaks before resuming duties.

The soldier Ringo had been talking to got up and said, "Well, I gotta get back to work, relieve my colleague."

"Been good talking to you, soldier," Ringo said back.

"You too." The soldier seemed hesitant to leave. Coughing nervously, he turned to Watkins. "Ummm, I was uh… wondering if um…"

Watkins gave him her most seductive look. "Mm?"

"Well, if you maybe had time…"

"Aw, no," Watkins said. "We'll probably be gone in the morning?"

He was visibly disappointed. "Oh. Okay then. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry?"

Sunny sat eyeing the can. "Think this is almost ready? I'm starving."

"Me too?," Watkins agreed.

"As am I," Ringo said, giving the can about the same look Sunny had. En realized she was pretty damn hungry too. The whole interrogation thing had taken her mind off her hunger, but damn, beans and meatballs wasn't a meal of kings, but it would be tonight!

"Hey I don't care if it's still kinda cold?" Watkins said. "I'm hungry."

"No," Ringo said adamantly. "We eat when it's ready, not before."

Right, she'd forgotten how neurotic he was about food and drink.

"Tch," Watkins blew. "Back in the Brotherhood, we used t – " She shut herself up as soon as she realized what she was saying. A few soldiers looked up from their mess-tins, but none had understood her clearly enough to be sure, and one by one, they resumed eating.

"Whoops," Watkins said quietly in En's ear.

With a grin, En nudged her in the side with her elbow. "Dumbass."

"Crisis averted," Ringo commented.

They talked about this and that as the can slowly heated, and finally, ten minutes later, Ringo said, "I think it just might be about done now."

They divided the big 1,5 kilogram can over four tins and shovelled the contents into their mouths, except for Ringo, who ate slowly, diligently, and with a disapproving look at the three gorging women.

Watkins was done first, letting out an unashamed burp when she put her tin on the ground. Some soldiers frowned at this crudity, while others chuckled or smiled, and some even clapped appreciatively.

After dinner, nobody minded heading straight to bed. It was past midnight already. They trudged to their cells and En and Watkins flung themselves down on the benches in theirs. At least the benches were covered in soft fake leather and there were smelly but comfortable pillows. It felt a bit strange, sleeping in a cell and being to look outside through the bars, but at least they didn't have to sleep there every day. Outside, they heard the faint sounds of soldiers talking and boots walking. Oddly, it was a calming noise, just loud enough to feel safe, and not too loud to keep them out of their sleep. Briefly, En wondered how Melissa and Meyers were doing, but she figured they'd be alright. Shit, Melissa was there, and in En's eyes, the woman could take on an entire army in her underwear and wielding only a spoon.

"Night Ennie," Watkins whispered quietly.

"You too, Leza." She closed her eyes and wrapped herself in her own arms for warmth. It was rather cold in the cells, even in her heavy leather get-up.

"You're not making it easy on her either," she heard a man's whispered voice coming from close by.

"Well, excuse me for having feelings," a woman whispered fiercely.

Wait, was that Sunny and Ringo she was hearing in the cell next to her?

"There's nothing wrong with having feelings. But you keep sending mixed signals."

"So it's my fault then?"

"That's not what I'm saying. You should both sit down and talk about this. I'm sure she doesn't feel right about it either."

"I don't think she cares that much."

"You should never presume to know how much someone cares about something. But why do _you_ care so much about it?"

"Well… she's my friend. I care about her."

"I'm sure she is, but is that all there is?"

"What do you mean?"

There was a short silence. "I honestly think this is more about you than her."

"Excuse me?"

Another short silence. "I think you need her more than you think. And I think it's… not for the right reason."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Short silence. "Sunny, nothing can bring Diana back. And En can't replace her either, much as you'd want her to."

What the… Who the Hell was Diana?

"This has nothing to do with my sister."

Sister? She'd never talked about having a sister?

"It does, Sunny. And deep down, you know it does too."

"It's different, come on."

"Of course it's different, but you're still looking for someone to be a new sister to you. Someone you can take care of. Someone…"

"What?"

"… Well, who needs you. And when En came along, almost dead and helpless, you felt that way again, like you did with your little sister. Like you could be there for someone. And that's not a bad feeling, but you're deriving your self-worth from that, and you shouldn't."

There was another silence, longer this time.

"Well, even if what you say is true, and it's _not_, then I'd be pretty stupid to keep trying." Short silence. "Everyone upstages me anyway."

"What? What ever gives you that idea?"

"Pft. Why would she need me anymore?"

"… Because you're a valuable member of the group? And because she cares about you as a person?"

Of course En cared about her as a person and considered her a valuable group member. Had Sunny forgotten there were only three of them in the beginning? And that they'd overcome big challenges as a trio? Then again, things weren't like they had been in the beginning. The more people had joined, the more Sunny had become irrational and unpredictable.

"Valuable member, don't be ridiculous. As soon as Melissa was into the picture, everyone started ooh-ing and aah-ing about how badass she was. But hey, at least I wasn't as ugly as Melissa, so I could live with it."

"I wouldn't call her _ugly_, exactly."

Short silence. "What? You think she's attractive? You serious?"

"Not to me, no. But I'm sure she's not bad looking if you can see past the awful hairdo and the muscles and the tattoos and the fact that she really needs to wash."

En was inclined to agree. Melissa seemed to deliberately try _not_ to be pretty, but she looked alright, really, if you looked past her image. Alright. Not good.

"Well, I think she's far from good-looking. Anyway, at least I had that. But then – "

"Along came Watkins."

"Yeah. I mean, how can I compete with those two? Melissa's like, the ultimate bodyguard, and Watkins is... you know."

"No, I don't. What?"

"She's so fucking gorgeous I feel like an ugly skank."

"Yes, well. You're wrong about that, for starters, she's beautiful, but so are you. What worries me more is why you think in terms of competing. Why would you feel the need to compete?"

Short silence. "Everyone competes. Melissa competes by kicking the ass of everyone who's in our way, and Watkins competes with," she imitated Watkins' nasal voice, "Hey Ennie! Aww Ennie! Aren't I gorgeous, Ennie?"

En hoped Watkins was asleep, or that she at least didn't hear.

"Maybe. But there's competing and there's _competing_."

No response from Sunny.

"The only reason she's pushing you away is because you try to force things. You were doing really great in the beginning. You can go back to that but you can't force it or she'll snap shut. Don't forget this is tiring for her too. She's got constant headaches, seizures, worries. You'd be out of energy for less."

About time someone acknowledged that!

"She still acts rotten to me sometimes."

"She does, and believe me, I want to punch her sometimes too, but she's a child. You're not. She's allowed to. You're the one who has to be more mature in those cases."

There was an audible sigh. "I just feel so mediocre, so… in-between."

"Not mediocre. Versatile. Sunny, En loves you. That I am sure of. You'll always be the Sunny she set off with when it was just we three. And you can go back to the bond you had if you just stopped seeing it all as a competition."

Well, she had to hand it to stuffy-man, he was making a lot of sense. And of course she loved Sunny even though she sometimes really tried her patience.

"It _is_ a competition."

"Not in the way you think it is. And you should sit down and talk to her too. Just explain how you feel. She can't know there's so many ghosts in your head unless you tell her. All she sees is you being clingy on one side, and then pushing her away on the other."

En nodded in her bed. That was indeed all she saw.

"She won't understand."

"Maybe not, but give her a try. I'm sure there's _some_ maturity behind all her pubescent brat behaviour. Bottom line is that, ironically, your relationship is turning sour because you care about it too much."

Pubescent brat behaviour? How dare he? En made a note to slap the back of his head for that one.

Silence. "Maybe. I don't know. Just promise me one thing."

"Sure, what?"

"Don't ever make me compete with Watkins, okay?"

"Never, Sunny. Watkins is beautiful, but she's no match for you. Not in my eyes."

"Bah, flatterer."

"I mean it. She's a pretty box with nothing inside. You've got looks and content."

Ouch. En risked a brief glance at Leza, but she saw only the back of her head.

"Don't you forget it."

"I don't intend to."


	34. Hunting Comrades

**.**

**THIRTY-FOUR**

**Camp McCarran, central campfire**

**July 8th**

**07:02**

"Not sure if it's still hot enough," Ringo said, looking at the water he was trying to heat on the ashes of last night's campfire.

"Should be, right?" En asked, sitting on the bench opposite him, propped up on her arms.

"Should be."

She'd gotten up as soon as she'd awakened, finding Ringo at the campfire already. He'd made a semi-serious comment about lazy Sunny sleeping in and Cheyenne the dog sharing her bad habits while he'd poured instant coffee in a tin cooking pot. The coffee had been on the ashes for a few minutes, and while ashes could stay very hot for a long time, En doubted if they'd still have enough heat to warm the coffee water. If it didn't, well, lukewarm coffee was better than none at all.

Watkins rivalled Sunny in terms of laziness, and En had let her sleep, quietly sneaking out of the cell while Leza snored lightly.

"You should make some time for Sunny," Ringo said, stirring the coffee powder through the water and still eyeing the pot sceptically.

She's figured he'd mention that to her sooner or later. Now to act as if she'd sensed it herself rather than caught it from the overheard conversation. "Yeah, I've noticed she's been acting a little weird."

"She isn't the only one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ringo kept looking at the pot. "It means that you're both confusing each other very much and would both benefit from some clarity."

"Yeah, well I'll have a talk with her." Though, she thought, it was pretty rich that her sixteen-year-old self had to drag the problems out of a twenty-five-year-old's mouth. But whatever, if Sunny was too immature to speak up, she'd have to make the first step. But dammit, she hoped that if she did, then all the drama could be put behind them.

"Aw, you got up without telling me?" Watkins whined as she sat down next to En. "It waslike, totally lonely waking up?"

"Sunny was there?"

Watkins snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you can totally get a meaningful word out of Sunny before ten AM, right?"

Ringo stuck his finger in the coffee pot and grinned.

"Ooh, coffee."

"Might not be all that hot though," Ringo said. "Though it's heating up rather nicely."

With a shrug, Watkins said, "I don't care. Good for waking up?" She needed it. Her eyes were still half-closed (well, the one they could see, anyway), and her face looked crumpled, imprinted by the sleeve it had lain on. Her hair was dishevelled, though she'd clearly tried to model it somewhat with her fingers, which had been only partially successful. En was surprised she'd even dared to get out of bed without a shower and some make-up time. And she wondered if Leza had heard the things Ringo and Sunny had said about her the night before. She hoped not, because it'd just make for more drama.

"So, miss En. Order of the day?"

"Uh… I figured we could try and cash those bounties. You know, on those Fiends?"

"M-hm."

"If we can find them, that is."

"I'd say that'd be the first requirement."

Leza pressed her arms against her sides from the cold. "Maybe we should check on Melissa and the old guy?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine," En said with a chuckle. "Sitting on their butts while we work."

"Technically," Ringo remarked, taking the coffee pot off the ashes, "we're all in your employ, miss En."

"Tch, you make it seem like you're travelling with me against your will."

Pouring the warm coffee into cups, Ringo said, "I was merely mentioning this factuality."

"Hey you know what we should pick up next time we get a chance?" Leza said enthusiastically.

"No, what?"

"Chocolate milk!"

Ringo merely muttered, "I'm not a fan."

En didn't share his sentiment. "Actually, yeah. It's been ages since I had chocolate milk. You're on, Leza, next time we're picking some up."

"Picking what up?"

"Oh hi Sunny," En said, swallowing a remark about how she was up early. "We were talking about buying some chocolate milk next time."

"Oh. Sure, why not." She sat down wearily, but her eyes lit up when she saw what Ringo was doing. "Ah, coffee. Yes please."

Ringo passed out the cups, and everyone silently enjoyed the still-rather-warm coffee. En took the time to pop one of either pills doctor Usanagi had given her.

"Miss Tessara?" a clipped female voice roused her from her silent, closed-eyed rapture.

"Mm?" It was the Lieutenant from the other day. Carrie Boyd.

"I spoke to the Colonel about the help you gave us, and we figured this was a suitable reward."

What she held out was not caps, or scrips, but an actual rifle! And a big one, in great condition to boot. "That XM-21 you've got there has seen better days. Since we're short on ammo but long on weapons, we figured we'd give this to you."

Realizing there must be stars in her eyes and not caring, En took the rifle. "Damn, this is too much."

"May it serve you well, miss," Boyd said, then turned on her heels and marched back to the terminal building.

"Looks like an M1 Garand," Ringo said, inspecting the rifle in En's hands. Packs more wallop than your XM, that's for sure." He held out his hand. "May I?"

"Uh… sure."

She gave him the rifle and he peered into the chamber with one eye. "This one seems to be rechambered in .308 calibre. Not a bad prize, miss En."

"Now if only we had some ammo for it," En sighed. "I could try it out and stuff. Sucks that it doesn't have a scope, though."

"Scope of your XM-21 might be transferrable?"

En eyed both weapons pensively. "Don't think so. Not without some welding anyway."

"Then I suppose you'll be stuck with iron sights until then."

"Mm."

"Well," Sunny said, "if those bounties work out, we might have a little excess cash. I'm sure we'll be able to find some ammo and a scope at that Gun Runners place."

"Yeah," En agreed. "It looks like an awesome gun, but it's dead weight without any ammo."

"Think I could get a shower somewhere?" Leza wondered out loud, looking across the camp.

"Not if you want every NCR soldier in there with you," Sunny grunted.

"Nu-uh," Leza said. "I'm a one-on-one kinda girl?"

"Though that only applies to simultaneity and not sequence, right?" Ringo said with a grin, finishing his coffee.

"I have no idea what that means," Leza said, "but I don't harm anyone by doing what I do."

"That's true," Ringo had to admit.

"I suggest we get cracking," En said. Bile wasn't good for breakfast. "I'm sure someone can tell us where we should start looking for those bounties."

"Indeed," Ringo said. "And we told the 1st Recon people we'd let them know when we set out, so we might as well ask them."

"Sure, yeah."

With an inane grin, Watkins said, "I've just realized that I'm committing high treason every minute I'm here. It's kinda cool?"

"If you say so," En said, grinning along. "Come on, let's roll."

"Ah, yes, the bounty hunters," the 1St Recon Lieutenant greeted them when they opened the flap to their tent. There was a barely perceptible edge of reproach as he said it. "Off to paste Cook-Cook and Violet?"

"That's the idea, yeah."

"Mm. I'll be sending someone with you who's got a personal score to settle. Bitter-root?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Go get Betsy, tell them it's time."

"Yes sir."

Gorobets turned back to En. "I don't approve of this, but she asked for leave, and she can do whatever she wants during. But I'm warning you, don't traumatize her any further even if she does act a bit… aggressive. Or you'll be answering to me, got it?"

"Uh… sure."

"And you," he said to Ringo, "best keep your distance a bit. Best for everyone."

"Certainly, Lieutenant."

"You sent for me, Lieutenant?" Corporal Betsy said, joining them in the 1st Recon tent.

"Yes, Corporal. These are the people who'll be going after… going to collect the bounties. Your leave's approved, but I want you back here before reveille tomorrow."

When Betsy's eyes fell on En, her face immediately betrayed disappointment. "Oh. Them."

"I know," Gorobets said, "But it's for a good cause, right? Be careful out there."

"Yes, sir," Betsy said, saluting the Lieutenant, who saluted back.

Gorobets turned back to En. "Fiends were last spotted around Vault 3. I'm guessing they're hiding somewhere out there. Both your marks work in the field though, as an advance guard, so you'll probably encounter them before you get to the Vault."

"Thanks."

"Good luck ridding the world of those bastards."

As they walked to the exit of the camp, En felt obliged to tell the Corporal, "You don't have to come with us if you don't want to, okay?"

Betsy put on her aviator sunglasses and looked up at the morning sky. "The LT only gave me leave if I promised I'd stay with you guys and not strike out on my own. So I do have to come with you."

"I'm just saying, you're clearly not happy to be stuck with us."

"I'm not. We didn't exactly get off to a great start."

Major Dhatri saw them as he was drilling soldiers, smiled, and lifted his hand. En waved back and Dhatri gave her a thumbs-up, wishing them luck.

"Well, I just have a big mouth sometimes. But I mean… we _were_ throwing insults at each other and all."

"Can we not talk about this?"

"Fine."

"You sure that blonde's one-hundred percent straight?" Betsy asked, nudging her chin at Watkins' ass.

"Pretty sure, yeah. Only woman in our group who doesn't mind some experimenting is back in Freeside, recovering from injuries."

"Mm."

"Are all you lesbians so aggressive though?" En asked, without thinking.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the way you were hitting on her yesterday. It was so straightforward it was like you instantly wanted us to know you were gay."

"You saying I should hide it?"

"No. Damn, you sure are defensive."

"Yeah, well, you'd be defensive too if…" her voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Leave me alone, I'm not here to be your friend."

Ugh, more drama. I'm sure it was something _awful_, like her parents not giving her enough attention when she was a child, or a school yard bully stealing her chocolate bar. Whatever it was, this conversation was going nowhere. "I'm going to talk to Watkins a bit. You just keep walking on your own."

"Whatever."

The rest of the walk was a bit uncomfortable, Sunny and Ringo walking together in silence, Cheyenne trotting beside them. Watkins was telling En about a prank she'd pulled, stuffing flour in Senior Scribe Schuler's hair dryer, and Veronica getting mad at her for it, probably because she'd always wanted to get into Schuler's pants. Given Watkins' propensity to not look past surface appearances, En was sure the real reason was different, not that she cared. Watkins' stories were entertaining, but they were far from intellectually stimulating. Plus, En found pranks to be a rather low form of humour. Any child could put a woopee cushion on a seat, any moron could pop a stink bomb in class. Verbal wit was so much more fun, a mental battle requiring quick thinking, creative wordplay and artful dodging. Pft, pranks. The slow mind's entertainment.

Gorobets had marked Vault 3 on En's Pip-boy, and they were getting close now, her Pip-boy map indicating the start of a long cluster of rubble with the Vault at its centre, slightly to the far side. Evening was already falling when they reached the ruins.

"Should have a motion sensor on that contraption," Ringo remarked.

"Yeah. Well, we'll be running into them pretty soon. I'm… not all that well-stocked on rifle ammo, to be honest."

Betsy said curtly, "I am. If you spot any Fiends, just let me know and I'll take care of them."

"Tell you what," Sunny said. "How 'bout me, Cheyenne and our friendly soldier here take point. Cheyenne will smell those fuckers a mile away."

"Sure."

"No need," Ringo said, pointing to the cluster of buildings a ways further. He'd climbed up on a rock formation and could see further than the others. "There's a camp fire burning over there."

"You civilians stay down. I'll take care of them."

"I can help?" En suggested. "I'm not bad with this thing," patting her rifle.

Betsy seemed to be indecisive for a second, then shrugged and said, "Fine. Just don't get in the way, and don't fire before I tell you to."

"You're not the boss of me."

"No, but I'm a professional sniper, not an amateur, and I know best," Betsy said flatly, hopping from rock to rock and leaping onto a nearby ledge quickly and quietly.

"Fine, fine, school me then."

"Shut up and get up here."

Despite the woman's domineering coldness, En did so, climbing onto the ledge, probably making more noise than ten Betsies put together. The corporal rolled her eyes at En's less-than-catlike climb. "Amateurs."

"Go on, big-mouth professional," En grunted, pulling herself onto the ledge. "Show me how it's done."

Without a word, Betsy shouldered her rifle and took aim at the three people sitting at the campfire. There were far away, really far, almost four hundred metres, almost invisible without a scope. No way Betsy would make those three shots. "I know you're a pro and all, but this is crazy far," En remarked.

"I'm not just a pro," Betsy muttered, peering through her scope. "I'm 1st Recon. Trust me, I can make that shot. You just watch and learn."

"Sure," En said with a sneer. She loved it when people acted all arrogant and confident and then fell flat on her face. Because no one could make those shots.

"Get them in your scope and get ready to fire," Betsy ordered. "They won't sit still after the first hit."

Assuming the first shot even _was_ a hit. Fat chance.

Still, En peered through her scope again and saw the three sitting there, passing a bottle of beer between them. Even in the scope, they were tiny. It would be a very long shot indeed.

"Ready?"

Unable not to smirk, En said, "Sure, go ahead."

"Be ready."

"Uh huh."

A loud _bang_ sounded next to her ear and En jumped, the scope dropping away from its target. When she brought it up again and got the campfire back in her sights, she saw that two of the Fiends were scrambling for their weapons and one of them lay on his belly, his head split.

Holy shit.

Beside her, Betsy calmly clacked the bolt of her rifle, took aim, and fired again. In her scope, En saw one of the Fiends getting shot square in the backside as she bent over to get her gun out of her backpack, the bullet passing through and taking splinters of bone and shreds of tissue out with it. En took aim and fired at the last Fiend, determined not to let this arrogant NCR woman get them all, but her bullet only made a puff in the ground several metres in front of her target, startling him and making him dive for cover, but before he could, Betsy's weapon fired again, and the bullet got him in the leg, smashing it backwards and sending him to the ground, his face smacking on the concrete. En fired again, but she'd over-corrected, and her bullet impacted the wall behind the Fiend. There was another _bang_ from Betsy's rifle, and the man's groin blew apart in a horrible explosion of blood.

En lowered her rifle. "H… holy shit, you… Damn!"

Betsy wiped her eyes, either to get sand out of them or something else, and pointed at En. "Amateur, zero." Then she pointed back at herself, "First Recon, three. Consider yourself schooled."

"Yeah, I guess I should." She was still flabbergasted. Those shots had been next to impossible.

As Betsy hopped down the rubble, she smirked at En. "Bet your friends told you you were good, huh?"

"Uh, well, yeah, they did. And I kinda thought so too."

"Well, I'm sure you liked pretending you were the real thing, but this is _real_ sniper work."

Yes, yes, alright no need to rub it in. She'd considered herself a pretty impressive marksman, but it turned out there were far more competent ones out there than her. It made sense now that she thought of it. She was only sixteen after all, and coasting mostly on talent, not skill. Still, others had told her she was damn good too.

Already back on the ground, Betsy sneered, "Rule one of every skill: don't listen to your friends or your mom."

Yeah, apparently. She sighed and climbed down from the ledge.

Betsy was waiting for her when she came down, her hands in her sides. "I killed them, I loot them. You can have whatever I don't want."

"Fine."

There was a quick slog towards the campfire, which now had no one left to warm, and Betsy roughly turned out the pockets of the Fiends, then turned over their backpacks. It was all junk, but she made sure all the caps went in her pockets. No matter, these Fiends never carried a lot anyway.

"None of them our bounty-targets?" Ringo asked Betsy.

"No."

"Then the search goes on."

Meanwhile, Watkins and En stood a ways further, and Watkins said quietly, "I really don't like her."

"Me neither."

With a giggle, Watkins told her, "I'm sure _that_ feeling is mutual?"

"So much the better."

Sunny was feeding Cheyenne the strips of beef jerky Betsy had torn from the Fiends' backpacks, and Ringo was talking to the obnoxious Corporal as she stamped out the campfire. Dammit man, En had really permitted herself to think she was an awesomely talented marksgirl, but it seemed she'd been seriously mistaken. Ringo and Sunny had said she was talented, but now that they'd all seen the real thing at work, she was worthless in comparison. God dammit.

They moved on, Betsy and Sunny taking point, Betsy occasionally holding up her fist at the ones following behind and sneaking off, returning with a shake of her head, and the advancement resumed. Betsy seemed to more or less know her way, occasionally motioning for En to show her Pip-boy, nodding, and then stalking off again. Watkins never ceased to remark how boring it all was.

It was past midnight when Betsy again held up her fist at the group and peered through a crack in the wall. She held up one finger, wrapped a single finger around her other wrist, then made a pistol with her fingers. Then she held up three fingers and made a gesture as if she was underhandedly holding an invisible orb at waist height.

"Um, yeah, we didn't graduate from pantomime school," En whispered sharply at her.

With a roll of her eyes, Betsy hissed, "One enemy with a pistol, three dogs!"

"_Now_ you're making sense."

Betsy shook her head and resumed looking through the crack. After a few seconds, she returned, huddled over, to the others. "It's Violet, for sure."

En's heart leapt. One they'd found already.

Betsy pointed at her and whispered, "They're not too far. Think even you will be able to hit 'em."

Gee, such compliments. "Sure you want me to cramp your style with my incompetent amateurism?"

"Believe me, I'd prefer not to have to rely on your dubious skills, but this one I can't do alone. Those dogs need to go down real quick and my rifle simply doesn't fire that fast."

"You're just full of encouragement, aren't you?" Sunny interrupted.

"I tell it like it is. Now come on, we've got to find a good vantage point." She looked at the ruins surrounding them and pointed at a ledge two metres high. "Think you can make that?"

"I might just be not-incompetent enough for that," En replied, getting more and more annoyed at this snooty woman's constant bossing.

"Good. Get up there, I'll get on that platform over there. We fire on my mark, you take the leftmost dog, I take the right one. When they're down, you shoot Violet, I'll take down the last dog."

"Sure."

Betsy's eyes narrowed. "Don't fucking miss. I can shoot a running dog, but I'm pretty sure you won't hit anything after they've started moving."

"I'll take out my pacifier, might be easier to aim then."

Betsy let out a grunting sigh. "Just get up there. In case they do make it close, I'll need you three to shoot them. Dogs are _fast_, so give it all you've got, okay?"

Sunny shrugged, Watkins looked mostly insecure, and Ringo said, "Yeah, sure."

As En climbed the rocks that led to the ledge, she felt her teeth clenching together and forced herself to relax her jaw. She couldn't wait for this trip to be over. They'd have enough money soon, if all went well, to get into Vegas, and they could send this annoyance back to her camp.

They were closer indeed, En realized, as she carefully peeked out at the place Betsy had been looking at. A woman sat in the courtyard of an old building complex, opening a can with her knife, her dogs roaming close to her, probably awaiting food. The shots would be difficult, but feasible. At least, she admitted to herself, as long as the dogs were calm, and not zipping all over the place.

Betsy had climbed to her vantage point and looked back at En. She nodded a 'ready?' and En nodded back. What a horrible woman. She held up a thumb and En realized she wanted her to fire first. Fine. At least then the dogs would still be calm.

She took the leftmost dog in her sights, as the bitchy Corporal had ordered, adjusted for wind as well as she could, and fired. Another shot rang out right after, and as the dog En had targeted was whipped into the air spraying blood, the dog on the right was blown back by a round smashing through its torso. The remaining dog sprang into action, taking off towards the two snipers, while the woman stood flat-footed, her face clearly visible in En's scope, and showing a disbelieving, heart-broken sadness. En made a stone out of her heart and fired at the Fiend, bursting her head. She fell like a rag doll.

She heard another _bang_ as Betsy fired again, followed by a harsh cursing, and below her, she saw the remaining dog bolt towards their hiding place. She shouldered her rifle again, trying to get the immensely fast dog into her crosshairs, but when she pulled the trigger, there was only a dry _click_. Shit, all out of ammo.

It didn't matter for the third dog, though. A salvo from Ringo, Sunny and Watkins cut it apart, though it probably broke Sunny's heart to kill a dog. Watkins' shot, predictably, went wide. The charging dog crashed to the ground and slid a few more metres, leaving a broad stripe of blood, before coming to a stop.

Two bounties down, one to go.

Both En and Betsy jumped down from their perches, the Corporal clearly furious with herself for missing the second shot. All En could think about that was, _good_.

Sunny sat kneeled over the dead dog while Ringo held Cheyenne's leash.

"This poor thing was malnourished and raised to be mean," Sunny said. "Sorry boy, we know it wasn't your fault."

"So um, that's like, one more to go, right?" Watkins said, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"I'm rather certain this was Violet, yes."

Betsy gave a curt nod. "One hundred percent. You'll want to grab those dogs' leashes for your bounty."

"… Yeah."

Peeling the leashes off the half-destroyed dogs' bodies was an ordeal in itself, En trying not to look at the bright colours and the smashed-out organs of the one she had to loot. Ringo pulled the last one off and Sunny had already taken the one from the dog they'd shot up-close. The 'I shoot, I loot' rule applied too, En decided, so she ransacked Violet's body, staying well away from the bright red-and-yellow hamburger that used to be her head. The smell of shit hung around her, but En knew that happened when people got shot in the head. She shuddered and hoped she'd never end up that way.

Violet had carried a few caps and a worthless pistol, but there were still a few cans of dog food in her backpack, and Sunny was none too sad to see them. A locket had been around Violet's neck, quite precious-looking, but En had extended her hand to it and then decided it was better to leave it. She'd never know who gave it to her, but she thought it was best not to take it.

Clicking fresh rounds into her clip, Betsy said, "And now we go after Cook-Cook. Whatever happens, whatever it takes, no one kills him but me."

En shrugged, stuffing the three dog collars in her backpack. "Sure, we're not stopping you if you insist on doing all the work." She was all out of ammo anyway.

"I insist, yeah."

Sunny yawned, her mouth wide open without a hand in front of it. "Better find him soon though, my legs are _aching_."

"Tch," Betsy scoffed. "You civs got no endurance."

Sunny closed her mouth, scowled at the NCR soldier and said, "You don't know shit."

"Um yeah?" Watkins surprisingly stood by Sunny, even though En wasn't sure she knew why Sunny's legs ached so much. "Keep those asshole remarks to yourself, maybe?"

"It's alright, Leza," Sunny said. "Not her fault she's a moron."

"What?" Betsy said, unimpressed. "You don't like asshole remarks, but you keep _her_ around?" It was clear who she was referring to.

"Hey, I piss people off sometimes," En shot back, "but that's part of my personality. Know what a personality is?"

"Sometimes Ennie's annoying, yeah," Watkins added, "but we care about her. We care about everyone in our group?"

"You as a soldier should respect that," Ringo concluded. "Now stop slagging people off."

"Sheesh," Betsy blew. "Aren't we touchy."

"… says the woman who blubbed like a baby from a casual insult," En couldn't resist.

That set Betsy off, and she pointed a furious finger at En. "Now _you're_ the one who doesn't know shit!"

En merely shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Betsy grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder with much more force than was required. "Let's just get going. The sooner I'm rid of you people, the better."

"The feeling," Sunny said, "is more than mutual." It would seem tension was at an all-time high again. Well, at least this time people wouldn't blame it on En.

"I gotta go pee first," Watkins announced, trudging off. "Wait for me."

Without a word, Betsy got up on a demolished wall to scout the surroundings. En figured it was more about putting some distance in between them than about actual reconnaissance.

"Never mind what she says, okay sweetie?" Sunny said, looking at Betsy fiercely. "Don't know what her problem is, but don't let her get to you, okay?"

Tell me something I don't know, Sunny. "No, I won't."

"There's doubtless a reason she acts the way she does, though," Ringo commented. "Unlike miss En here, she doesn't seem to be born with a tendency to be irritating."

"Hey."

Sunny chuckled. "He means well, sweetie."

Ringo only shrugged. "The truth has its rights."

"Yes, yes, alright, alright," En said, annoyed, hoping to drop the subject. "We all have our bad sides, I'm just – "

The conversation was cut short when a shriek cut through the night, causing all heads to whip in its direction.

"Is that…" En began.

Sunny nodded. "Watkins!"

All four, including Betsy, bolted towards the source of the cry, Cheyenne charging faster than any human could. En drew her beretta during the run, but the gun slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Fuck! No time to stop.

They rounded a corner and could see Watkins struggling furiously, a man on top of her, pulling at her clothes. Her attacker barely had time to bring his head up before Cheyenne threw herself at him, bowling him over and dragging him to the ground. Watkins wriggled and kicked herself out from under him as En and Ringo reached her, En quickly grabbing her under the armpits and pulling her free.

The man was screaming, swatting at Cheyenne, who had his forearm in an iron bite. Sunny had reached them now, grimacing from the pain in her legs, verifying that Ringo had his weapon trained on Watkins' attacker, and then ordering her dog to, "Off!"

Cheyenne promptly let go and trotted over to her mistress for a beef jerky reward, while Watkins struggled to her feet, the collar of her leather-and-metal armour stretched, the zipper torn a few centimetres open. Apart from a bleeding nose and a dishevelled head of hair, she looked largely unscathed. Still, En asked, "You alright, Leza?"

Watkins nodded jerkily. "Yeah, he tried… tried to… oh man, if you guys hadn't arrived…"

"But we did," Sunny said gently, scratching Cheyenne under the chin. "Don't think of what could have happened. You're safe now."

"Yeah, th… thanks."

Betsy had reached them too, and as the man lay curled up on the ground, holding his bleeding forearm, her face turned to a mask of utter hatred. "It's him. Cook-Cook."

"Let's return him alive," Ringo said. "Might be more lucrative."

Her face still contorted in hate, Betsy said, "No. That's not an option."

The man on the ground uttered a raucous laugh, still holding his arm. "I remember you."

"I remember you too," Betsy growled. "And I will for the rest of my life."

Cook-Cook grinned his dirty crooked teeth bare. "Couldn't stay away? Gave you something those NCR boys never could, didn't I?"

"Shut up!" Betsy shouted, taking out her side-arm, her hand trembling as she trained it on him. "Shut the fuck up, you pig!"

"Hey Betsy – " En began.

"I need a few minutes alone with him," Betsy said curtly. "Wait for me behind the wall of that dry cleaning store."

"But – " En protested, but Sunny gently took her arm. "Come on sweetie, I don't think we want to stick around for this."

"Yeah, let's go, Ennie?"

Ringo asked one more time, "You sure about this, Corporal?"

"Yes. Now please, go. I need to do this." The man on the ground still lay there, clutching his arm, looking accepting of whatever fate would now befall him.

After a moment of indecision, En allowed Sunny to take her along to the ruin of the old dry cleaning store.

The screams they heard lasted for much longer than a few minutes, and when she came back, her boots and armour spattered with blood and wiping tears from her eyes, all Betsy said was, "Let's go. I don't hurt anymore."


	35. Middle of Nowhere

**.**

**THIRTY-FIVE**

**Still a Long Way to Camp McCarran**

**July 9th**

**02:31**

"Guys, I don't mean to be a wimp, but I gotta call uncle here."

En stopped walking, and so did Watkins next to her. Corporal Betsy made a few more brisk strides before she, too, stopped. She hadn't said a thing since the thing with Cook-Cook, she's simply started walking and hadn't stopped, and no one had dared or wanted to speak to her. But now Sunny was lowering herself onto a boulder with a pained grimace, Ringo holding her hand and Cheyenne looking up at her mistress, her head cocked.

"Aw, what's wrong, Sunny?" Watkins whined, probably meaning to sound concerned.

There was a brief flash of irritation in Sunny's eyes when she looked up, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "My legs. They're… in a lot of pain."

"She can't go on," Ringo said. "She's been biting the pain for an hour now, but no one can do it forever. We need to stop."

En half-expected Betsy to start rapping about perseverance and sucking it up, but surprisingly, the Corporal said, "I guess we can halt for a while."

"Not for a while," Sunny said, shaking her head. "For the night. I need to recuperate or I'll just have to stop again after five minutes."

"That's alright, Sunny," En said and to Hell with Betsy's objections. "We understand. Let's make camp in that old fire station over there, can you make it that far?"

Sunny nodded, her hands on her knees. "All I need is the promise of a warm sleeping bag."

Betsy harrumphed, but didn't seem inclined to protest. For some reason, En knew that the Betsy they'd begun their trip with would have reacted differently.

"Good idea, Sunny," Watkins cheered enthusiastically. "I need my beauty sleep?"

"Don't we all," En said.

Predictably, Watkins replied with a scoffing, "Not like I do, you don't."

The most rotten thing about Watkins' narcissism was that it was painfully justified. That meant En couldn't get all witty and take her down a peg. Damn Watkins and her breathtaking bombshellitude.

After giving Sunny a moment to mentally prepare for the last slog, they trudged to the fire station. The garage doors were down, but there was a smaller door set into one of them that opened after a few joint tugs by Ringo and Betsy. Betsy took out her side-arm and flashlight and Ringo did the same.

"Stay back," Betsy said, "I'll make sure it's clear."

"I shall accompany you," Ringo announced, clearly not tolerating a refusal.

"Fine, just don't get in my way."

"Or you in mine."

They both disappeared into the fire station, leaving En, Watkins and Sunny to wait outside. After a few minutes, they heard Betsy yell, "Clear!", and they dragged themselves inside.

The fire station itself was in decent repair still. Everything of use had been looted, right down to the fire hoses and trash bins, but it could serve its purpose. An old fire engine still stood in the garage, its tyres eaten away and its front open, looted for parts nobody could ever really use anymore. Rats fled from the cones of the flashlights, but apart from them, there didn't seem to be anything or anyone present.

"This'll do," Betsy muttered. "You all can rest here. I'll take first watch."

"It's rather late," Ringo said. "It might be sensible to take watch in couples, to keep each other awake."

Betsy frowned. "I'll be fine on my own."

"That will not do," Ringo said, shaking his head. "It'll be a short night, so people will be hard-pressed to stay awake. Including yourself."

Betsy rolled her eyes. "Fine." She shone her flashlight in En's face, making her squint. "You can take first watch with me."

"_Me_?"

"Yes, you."

"Why me?" She'd really, _really_ prefer to stand watch with Watkins or Ringo. And she guessed so did Betsy, so why the Hell did she assign her as volunteer?

"We've got things to talk about. Come on."

There was only one entrance to the building, and the fire station had a command tower looking out over the surrounding area, so that was a much better place to stand watch than in the station itself. Like everything else, the command tower had been picked clean to the last paperclip. All the consoles were broken open, all the parts taken out, the wires torn loose. All that was left were broken and worthless things. One coffee mug was broken in half, but the writing on it was still legible. "World's Best Dad". So many people.

At least the stripped consoles could serve as makeshift chairs. En took one and Betsy sat down on the opposite one. Already En could feel her eyelids getting heavy.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," Betsy scolded.

"No, no… I'm fine." She was dead tired, but that was no business of hers.

"Hey um… what I wanted to say…"

"Mm?"

Betsy cleared her throat. "Thanks for giving me the opportunity to… well, put something behind me."

It seemed like the most difficult thanks to say in the entire world, but still, it did En pleasure. "That's cool. We were in it for the money anyways."

"I imagine you were."

En shrugged. "Not to sound all mercenary, but sometimes you simply need cash, even if cash isn't the end goal."

Betsy nodded. "One good thing about the Army, at least. Doors open when they need to. So what _are_ you after, anyway?"

En figured there was no harm in telling her. She tilted her head and pointed at her scar. "I assume you've noticed this already?"

"Sure did. Looks nasty."

"Gee, thanks. Someone did that to me on purpose. Shot me in the side of the head."

"Heh," Betsy chuckled. "With all the people you doubtless piss off, that could be half the world."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But no, I actually _didn't_ have this one coming. Some asshole robbed me during a simple courier job, took the package I was carrying."

"So, revenge?"

En looked out over the blasted landscape, the rubble lit up by the three-quarter moon. There was no movement whatsoever. "Not really. I mean, not mainly. I wasn't shot during the robbery. They clobbered me over the head, took my package, and then… well… they dragged me to a graveyard, shot me in the head, dropped me in a grave and… just shovelled."

"Hmmmm," Betsy said pensively. "That doesn't make much sense. Why would they bother shooting you after they have what they want? No witnesses maybe?"

"Possibly. That's what I intend to find out. What was so special about that package that I needed to get my brains blown out even when it wasn't necessary anymore."

"So you're looking for answers then?"

"M-hm. I don't know why, but I just need to know."

"Any leads?"

"Oh yeah. We captured one of the robbers, took her with us. Found another one, but he's dead now. That one led us to the third and last: the boss himself, some slick bastard in a checkered suit."

"So you know where he is then?"

"Yeah, Vegas. That's why we need the cash."

Betsy chuckled. "I'll pretend that doesn't make me conclude you're going to forge ID's at Mick and Ralph's shop."

En grinned and looked at the ground. "Heavens, no."

"The cash you'll get should be enough, though."

"Think so."

"So uh…" Betsy gestured at the side of her own head, mirroring the place where En's scar was. "… does it hurt much?"

En sighed. "Sometimes it hurts so much I just want to bang my head against a wall until it stops. But usually, it's just a mild, pulsing headache." She could feel tears burning in her eyes, but she pushed them back. "But it's _always_ there. And will be, for the rest of my life."

Betsy pulled her mouth to the side. "I'm sorry to hear that, kid."

"It's not your fault," En said with a shrug.

"… and I'm sorry for being so rotten to you guys. That _is_ my fault."

Damn. She'd expected a bit less acid, but a full-blown _apology_? Spectacular. "No, that's alright. You didn't know all the stuff I dragged around and I didn't know what was weighing on you. I still don't." It was half an invitation for her to explain why she acted so irrationally. En figured it was better than trying to drag it out of her.

Betsy smiled though, and merely said, "It's okay. Those are my problems. Like I said, I don't hurt anymore."

Her eyes said something different entirely.

"Alright. I respect that," En said. "It's certainly good to know that we'll be walking back with a little less tension."

With a grin, Betsy looked up at her. "Tension for which I am only _half_ responsible."

She had a point and En had to grin along and concede, "Okay, so maybe I haven't been exactly contributing to the peaceful nature of our communications."

"Damn straight."

"Yeah, well, I just get my hackles up when people provoke me."

"That's one thing, but… well, I don't know if you realize, but you tend to provoke them right back, and then things just escalate out of control."

She was right about that one too. "Yeah, I've… noticed that. I just… I don't know."

"… want to prove I'm smart and witty?" Betsy said with an eyebrow raised.

Huh. She hadn't thought of it that way yet, but now that she heard it that way, maybe that _was_ the case. Maybe it wasn't about teaching people a lesson, maybe she just wanted to be the winner. To show the other person she was smarter and wittier. "I… guess in a way, that's partly it too, yeah."

"Heh, well, you're gonna have a hoot at this one. Since we're talkin' personal stuff and all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I'm uh…" she scraped her throat and looked at the ground. "… not really a lesbian."

"Really."

"Yeah, I'm serious. Stupid, huh?"

En had to admit it was. "Kinda, yeah. So why pretend?"

"I guess if you put two and two together, you can imagine why, right?"

En knew she could be a bit oblivious at times, but yeah, it all wasn't that hard to piece together if you were even a bit perceptive. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault right?" Her voice was close to breaking.

"No. But still. Anyway, you can move on, right? And um… if you need some help, I know a doctor pretty close to here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, doctor Unagi… something. Damn, I keep forgetting her name."

"Doctor salmon skin roll?"

En flapped her hand. "It was something like that, anyway."

"Ooh! Look there!" Betsy exclaimed, hopping off the console. "Too good to pass up."

En peered through the command tower window and saw it too: in the dark and light blues of the night crept a male figure with a horned helmet on his head. "Fiend?"

"Sure looks like one."

"He doesn't look like a threat, though?"

"Threat, threat…" Betsy said dismissively. "He's a good occasion for a pro to give some pointers to an amateur."

"Oh. Like that." Though the prospect of some sniping lessons intrigued her, it didn't seem all that right to just blast some random wastelander, even if it was a Fiend. "Not sure we'll have to shoot him though."

"Who cares about that, he's a Fiend. Go on, you can use my rifle."

There was no harm in learning to aim right, En supposed. She didn't have to pull the trigger if it wasn't necessary. She took the rifle Betsy held out to her and shouldered it. It was seriously heavier than her XM-21, and harder to keep steady. The scope was far more sophisticated too, the crosshair divided into notches to aim with even more precision.

"Alright, now what you usually do is just hover the crosshair over the enemy and wait for a shot, right?"

"M-hm."

"Well, want to do is not aim directly at your target, but calculate in the correction. There's two things you always need to keep in mind, and that's wind and bullet drop."

En kept the Fiend in the scope for now, so as not to lose him. He'd squatted down next to a ruined power box, probably looking for scrap to sell.

"I knew about bullet drop, but wind? I mean, these bullets go wicked fast, right?"

Betsy nodded, invisible behind En. "Yes, but they're still affected by the wind, and you need to keep it in mind, especially with lots of wind or over long distances."

"Okay."

"There's almost no wind and he's pretty close, so it'll be easy pickings this time. I'd aim… one notch to the left and one notch above the target's brain stem."

En did so, causing the centre of the crosshair to hover just above and next to the Fiend's head. The man had no idea how close his death was, ready to smash down on him, kept back only by a single spring, ready to drive a striking pin.

"Now all you need to do is pull the trigger."

En swallowed, but then hesitated.

"Kid, he's a Fiend. A worthless thieving raping murdering drug addict. Paste him."

En lowered the rifle. "Nah. Let him go."

Betsy shook her head, her hands in her sides. "Tch. You civvies sure are soft."

"I just… don't want to kill someone who hasn't done anything to me." She handed Betsy back her rifle and saw her face go wistful.

"I get that…" she said. "Wish I still had that outlook." She sighed and shook off the melancholy. Below them, the Fiend had stopped checking the electrical box and scurried away, forever unknowing of the fate that had almost befallen him. "Anyway, I can still give you more instruction if you like?"

"Sure," En said with a yawn, checking her Pip-boy and noticing it was a quarter to four already. "Keep us awake."

Betsy and En spent the rest of their watch as mentor and pupil, Betsy explaining all kinds of things that made a good sniper, even down to breathing control and ways to reduce jitter. Much of it was too much to take in at once, but at the end of the watch, En really felt as if she'd learned a great deal. More stuff to impress her friends with, mwaha!

"What time is it now?" Betsy asked at the end.

"Five exactly."

"Let's wake your friends up and get two hours of sleep ourselves, then we move on. The LT's gonna do my head in for being late, but he'll understand when I explain."

"Probably yeah. Hey, thanks for the pointers, Betsy."

The Corporal clapped her on the shoulder. "That's alright. Believe it or not, I actually had fun with you."

"Yeah. Imagine that. Having fun with an insufferable brat like me."

Betsy smiled and went down the stairs. "I didn't say you were an insufferable brat, I said you were _being_ one."

En came down after her. "Not much difference."

"Not much, and at the same time, a whole lot." She prodded her boot against Ringo's shoulder. "Come on civvie, time to wake up."

En was a bit gentler, kneeling and squeezing Watkins' shoulder. "Leza?"

"Mmm?"

"Your turn."

Leza groaned. "And I was just having this awesome dream about being able to fly?"

"Well, you can go fly in the command tower with Ringo."

"Only in spirit," Watkins groaned into her pillow. "I'm not a home-wrecker?"

"Uh… sure. Go on, get out of that sleeping bag so I can steal your warmth."

Indignant, Watkins propped herself up on her elbows. "You're gonna sleep in _my_ sleeping bag? You know, normally when people sleep in my bed, I'm in there with them?"

"Well, not tonight. And it's the sleeping bag we bought for you."

"Pft. Details."

"Now scoot, blondie!"

With another indignant groan, Watkins crawled out of her sleeping bag, stepping into her boots after missing them several times. Her hair stood to one side, but the lock over her eye was still firmly in place. Taking her laser pistol belt from the hook she'd hung it on, she glared at En. "Don't fart in it too much?"

With a grin, En said back, "Don't tempt me." The sleeping bag smelled of Watkins' deodorant, not an unpleasant smell.

Sunny had remained asleep during the changing of the guard, and everyone seemed to agree instinctively that she didn't have to take a turn. Poor Sunny. En reminded herself to be a little more understanding, even though Sunny could sometimes be extremely tiring. She hadn't had it easy, and if she hadn't come with En, her legs wouldn't be… well… they way they were. En briefly wondered what they looked like now, but she figured it'd be disrespectful to ask. As those thoughts occupied her, sleep crept up on her and gently pulled her in.


	36. For the Reunion

**.**

**THIRTY-SIX**

**Abandoned Fire Station**

**July 9th**

**08:41**

"Miss En?"

En woke up, blinking against the morning light creeping in through the boarded-up windows, and looked into Ringo's face. "Unnh?"

"Time to go."

Every bone and muscle in her body felt impossibly heavy, the warmth of the sleeping bag holding her fast. Her head pulsed with pain, like always, but it was joined by a leaden feeling in her eyelids, and her face felt completely numb, trying to will her to fall asleep again.

"Come _on_, En_nie_!" Watkins singsonged in her ear. "We've got bounties to cash in, and I wanna be in Vegas by tonight!"

"Yeah, yeah," En groaned. "Shut up and make some coffee."

"Corporal Betsy is currently in the process of providing hot beverages," Ringo said. Leaning in towards her, he confided, "I'm not certain what she brews will be suitable for consumption, however."

Her joints aching, En sat up straight. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's hot and it's got a flavour. All I need to wake up." It was a bit of a lie, because no way a cup of mucky coffee would wake her up after only three hours of sleep. And Watkins could stand on her head for all En cared, she was resting before she headed into Vegas, even if it meant waiting another day. The walk back to Freeside would already take long enough, and then they still needed to get those passes made. But still, if all went well, it'd be the last night in the Atomic Wrangler, and the last step before finally finding those answers she'd been looking for all this time. She couldn't believe it had already been over two weeks since she'd woken up at Doc Mitchell's place. She wondered how he was doing, but she was sure he was doing just fine. She'd really have to pass by Goodsprings when this was all done and say a proper thankyou.

Sunny sat up in her sleeping bag too, her arms crossed over her knees, enjoying the nudges Cheyenne was giving her. "Hey you should've woken me up too," she told the others. "Now I feel bad for sleeping all night."

"Aw, Sunny, don't worry," Watkins said cheerfully. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." It seemed to be slightly painful to say. Sunny's mistrust for Watkins seemed to still simmer. Oh, Sunny, why couldn't you just stop worrying and fretting about things so much, and jump to less conclusions… Watkins hadn't made a single move on Ringo yet and didn't seem at all inclined to. En had a feeling the reason Sunny pushed people away was because ironically she was so scared of pushing them away. If you try to force people to stay close to you, you always get the exact opposite. Ah, at least she meant well. She simply had to stop constantly being jealous. Same with Melissa. That made her wonder how Melissa and Meyers were doing. Alright, probably. She hoped Melissa had rested a bit instead of dragging a few victims to her room. And it did En pleasure to realize she really looked forward to seeing Melissa again. Meyers too, but especially Melissa. Because despite how she looked, and despite the history she had with En, Melissa was really the most normal of the entire group. She never complained, never made things difficult, just kept her good cheer and stayed relaxed. Who'd have thought it?

"Army-style coffee, civvies," Betsy announced, holding a metal pot with steam curling above it. "Sit yourselves down and get invigorated."

"Nauseated, more likely," Ringo said quietly to En.

The coffee wasn't so bad, actually. It wasn't like Ringo made it – he was the Prince of Adding Water to Powder – but manageable. No one dared to ask exactly what 'Army style' entailed, but it probably meant using very little powder and a whole lot of water.

After the coffee, En's morning pee became too urgent to hold up, and she excused herself, going to squat behind a wall outside the fire station. The sun was warm already, and it would be sweltering hot within an hour or two. Damn, why'd she have to take that courier job at the beginning of the damn summer. Taking a breath, she squatted down and waited for the pain, but the burning she'd braced for didn't come, only a mild stinging, that felt heavenly compared to the searing pain she'd felt before. Holy shit she could pee! Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the business, a relieved smile on her face. It stung, but the stinging might as well have been a gentle massage. The meds she'd taken every day started to help!

Hitching up her pants, she smiled at the sun and told it quietly, "See that? I can pee."

It was a burning ball of helium in the sky, and En doubted it heard or cared, but it felt good to let it know she was finally getting rid of it.

Now if only the headache would go away. The analgesics helped a bit, but you can't just keep on taking painkillers, and the antidepressants would take a while to show results, Usanagi had said. Still, that they might work on the seizures was a bit of a comfort already.

She went back inside and found everyone ready to pack, except Watkins, who was rolling up her sleeping bag, grumbling that the last person to sleep in the sleeping bag should be the one to roll up the sleeping bag.

They walked the rest of the trip, and the sun was high in the sky when they reached the gates of Camp McCarran. En's shirt was drenched with sweat already, and they'd drunk the last water bottle at the beginning of the trip, so the NCR camp was a welcome sight. The two guards stood lounging next to the gate, one smoking a cigarette, the other picking at his fingernails. They briefly looked up, nodded at Betsy, and didn't even say a word when En and her friends followed the Corporal inside. En could almost hear Ringo frowning in disapproval behind her.

"Major Dhatri's on leave for a day or two, Corporal," one of the NCR Captains informed Betsy when she asked where En could cash her bounty.

"Hm," she said to En. "Then it'll be Colonel Hsu's office."

They walked to the concourse, but as they did so, they heard a furious voice shout, "BETSYYYYY!"

"Ugh," Betsy groaned. "That'll be the LT. He'll be beet-red and frothing at the mouth, I'll bet." She turned to face him and quietly said, "Yep."

Lieutenant Gorobets didn't even give her the time to salute and barked at her to get her butt to the exercise field on the double, one lap for every hour past reveille she was late. With a weary, "Yes, sir," Betsy got a move on, but not before telling the others, "Thanks, and goodbye!"

"Bye Betsy," En waved back. "Take care."

"She seems to have warmed up," Sunny remarked without much interest.

"Yeah," En said. "We had a good talk when we were standing watch."

"Ennie," Watkins insisted, sounding giddy. "Bounty, passes, Vegas?"

En smiled at her enthusiasm despite herself. "Alright, alright, let's go."

They passed Lieutenant Carrie Boyd on the way to the Colonel's office and actually got a terse nod out of her, which En supposed was better than 'promise me this is the last time you're here'. Colonel Hsu seemed a bit ambivalent to their entrance, but then he remembered the bounties and he eagerly asked, "So? Which one? Violet or Cook-Cook?"

En couldn't resist beaming when she said, "Both."

"No shit!" Then he remembered himself, scraped his throat and said, "Errr, I mean, you're kidding?"

"Nope." En placed the three dog collars on the Colonel's desk and then said, "Betsy was with us when we killed Cook-Cook. She said I should give you her word and that after the incident at Nelson, you'd know she always kept it."

Grinning, Hsu nodded. "That I know, all too well. Well, I must say, I'm impressed."

Bobbing on her feet, En said, "So's your wallet, right?"

Hsu laughed and rose, unlocking a sturdy cabinet behind his desk. "Definitely. I'll need you to sign a receipt though. I'm a bit more cynical about people than Major Dhatri.

"Sure, yeah."

He sat down at a typewriter. "Full names?"

"En Tessara."

"En or Anne?"

Well, it was an improvement over people just assuming it was Anne. "No, En. Ee-en."

"I'll need your full name, is it short for something?"

Ding! Question number two. There was no need to spell out her full name again, it'd just embarrass her further. "Uh, no. Just En. Tessara, double 's'."

Watkins wisely kept silent.

He clacked a few keys. "Right. Next?"

"Ringo Quinn."

Hsu started typing, then stopped. "Hold on a sec. You're Thomas and Naomi's boy, aren't you?"

Slightly embarrassed, Ringo admitted, "Uh... Yes, Colonel."

"Your father was a fine soldier, son. How's Naomi? Been ages since I've seen her."

"Thank you, Sir, and she was fine, last I heard."

"Good… Good." He finished typing Ringo's name, and then said, "Next?"

"Alejandra Reyes."

Clack-clack. "And finally?"

Insecurely, Leza looked at Ringo and En, who both nodded. It didn't seem all that dangerous to say her name, it wasn't like they'd run them through an Evil People database or something. "Uh… Melissa Watkins. But everyone calls me Leza."

"Right. Me… lis… sa… Wat… kins." Right, that's all of them.

For some reason, En had expected Ringo's last name to be something completely outlandish.

Hsu typed on, writing up a receipt, then tore it off the typewriter and told everyone to sign next to their names. A few signatures later, the amount of caps indicated on the paper was paid out, a whopping six hundred, good for passes all around and some change for entertainment when they hit Vegas. Whoo!

When they were outside, Watkins dug her nails into En's shoulders and ecstatically shouted, "Vegas, baby, Vegas, yay!"

"Easy there," En said. "We still need to hike all the way back to Freeside. And I don't care how eager you are, we're resting before we head into Vegas."

"Aww," Watkins whined. "But I wanted to go _now_."

"It's just a day, blondie," Sunny said sourly. "Won't kill ya."

Watkins' spirit abated somewhat. "Yeah you're right. It'll be a hard trip for you. Sorry, I was just… you know, looking forward to it?"

Stuffing the caps in the bag on En's back, Ringo said, "It's only a day," sounding as if he was soothing an overenthusiastic child. Which he kinda was.

Well, except for the fact that Watkins was at least sensible enough to realize that a day wasn't a year. She bounced, smiled again and said, "You're right. But we're taking a night on the town tomorrow, promised?"

En didn't like promising things, especially things that involved too many factors she had no control over. "Uh…"

Watkins glared at her. "En_nie_."

Fine, fine. "Alright, alright, promised. But I'm not carrying you to your bed, got it?"

Watkins gave a lopsided grin. "We'll see."

"I'm not. Believe me." Deciding it might be good to show some consideration, En asked Sunny, "You feeling okay?"

Sunny managed a pained smile. "I'll be alright. Let's go."

After a quick meal of cereal bars at the extinguished campfire, they set out, back to Freeside. The walk had taken a few hours to get to Camp McCarran, so En figured they probably wouldn't be back before the late afternoon. Sunny's legs were particularly painful today, so they had to stop for a breather several times, and with the sun being searing hot and leaden, the water supply they'd bought in Camp McCarran probably wouldn't last longer than the walk back to Freeside. Water wasn't that expensive, thankfully, though En had heard that on the East coast, water was almost priceless due to its scarcity. She found that a bit hard to believe.

Watkins and Ringo had apparently had a decent time while standing guard, and they seemed to have warmed up to each other a bit, Ringo acting less indifferent and Watkins less obnoxious. En took the liberty of seeing that as a good thing, but she hoped Sunny wouldn't be too peeved by their slightly less chilly interactions.

Even with periodical breaks, the walk didn't take all that long. Sunny had been a trooper, slogging on despite the pain and fatigue in her legs, and not giving a peep. Cheyenne on the other hand, seemed chipper as always trotting along with her mistress, occasionally looking up at her, and then back to the road.

It was three thirty when they reached the Freeside gate. They'd made damn good time. Watkins' wish might still be fulfilled. But then En realized how utterly beat she felt and she decided that no way, they wouldn't be playing slots and blackjack in Vegas tonight. One more day wouldn't hurt. If that Benny prick had his base of operations there, surely he'd be there tomorrow too. And the day after.

She sure was curious to see what Melissa and Meyers had been up to during the day or two they'd been away. Meyers would probably have spent the days reading, and Melissa… well, she'd just have to ask and see, wouldn't she?

"Whew," Melissa breathed. "The Atomic Wrangler. We're home."

"As home as a dive in Freeside can be," Sunny muttered.

"Regardless," Ringo said, "a real bed will feel quite invigorating."

"Bunking with me again, Leza?" En asked.

With a grin, Watkins replied, "Not with Melissa or Meyers, that's for sure, I don't feel like covering the keyhole every time I shower?"

"Come on," Sunny said, "I need a cold beer."

Didn't they all.

There weren't many people in the Wrangler, and Meyers and Melissa were nowhere to be seen. Meyers would probably be in his room reading (the man was a maniac), but where Melissa was… that would be a more difficult thing to ascertain. "I'll go see if our two left-behinds are in their rooms, okay?" En said. "Order me a coke? And none of that sarsaparilla crap please."

"Will do," Ringo said, walking up to the bar.

En gently knocked on the door of Meyers' and Melissa's room, and sure enough, she heard Meyers' hoarse voice gravel, "Yeah?"

"You decent?"

"I wouldn't be indecent if I was naked, but yeah, you can come right on in, little lady."

Meyers lay on the bed, propped up against the headrest, one leg over the other, and reading – predictably – a book. The night light was on, even though it was still afternoon, and he'd closed the shutters, probably for a relaxed and cosy reading atmosphere.

"So we're back."

With a smile, he lowered his reading glasses (where'd he found _those_?) and said, "So I see. Was your adventure fruitful?"

"Oh yes. We've got more than enough for passes. The others are downstairs, having a drink. You coming?"

He flung his book onto his nightstand. It had a cover of two hands holding an apple. "Most certainly. This book is the biggest piece of pulpy trash I've ever read anyway."

"Uh… okay. Any idea where Melissa is?"

Grining, Meyers said, "She had a little… errand to run at the Old Mormon Fort."

En blinked. "What would she possibly be doing at an old Mormon Fort?"

Meyers' grin widened. "It's a Followers of the Apocalypse field hospital now. The head doctor's… quite the looker."

Right, Melissa had been on a poaching run again. "Say no more."

"Nice young woman, by the way," Meyers told her as they went down the stairs. "Ran into them both when they were having a drink downstairs. Terrible haircut, but Melissa would probably disagree."

"Probably. I mean, if you look at her…"

"I'd wager our amazon needs a shower more than a haircut. But don't tell her I said that."

"Hell no, she'd kill us both."

"Melissa not here?" Sunny asked as they sat down at the table.

"No," En said. "She's… out for a bit."

"Now then," Meyers said. "Tell me all!"

Tell him all they did. Ringo made a fuss of having to get him a scotch at the bar when he'd just returned with drinks, but apart from that, they could tell him the whole story, about En's interrogation, the night in the cell, the search for the bounties and the sleepover at the fire station. Ringo and Sunny were quiet for the most part, with En and Watkins falling over each other to tell parts of the story.

Finishing his second scotch, Meyers only commented, "So you return victorious and bearing the spoils of war?"

"Yep," En beamed. "Enough to get us all into Vegas."

"… and finally get your questions answered," he ruminated, swirling the last of the scotch around in his glass. "Excited?"

"Kinda, yeah," she had to admit.

"_So_, Ennie, let's go get those passes made already!"

Shit, yeah, they'd have to get that done before the shop closed. "You're right," En said, draining her cola. "And I promise, tomorrow we're all heading into Vegas and gambling all our excess cash away."

"That's a responsible way to treat our finances," Ringo said sourly.

"In a manner of speaking, stuffy-man," En was quick to inform him. "We won't ruin ourselves, don't worry."

"See to it that you don't."

"Ugh, _yawn_, Rin_go_!" Watkins whined. "Don't be such a buzzkill all the time?"

"Someone has to make sure you kids behave."

"Now, now," Sunny soothed. "Surely they can have a bit of fun."

"What do you mean, 'they'?" Watkins protested. "Sunny, you're totally coming with us?"

"Uh… we'll see. I've got nothing to wear and stuff."

That only encouraged Watkins even further. "Then we! Are! Going! Clothes-shopping!"

Sunny managed a thin smile. "We'll see."

"Guys," En said, "we need to go get those passes made before the shop closes, come on."

As they walked to Mick & Ralph's, they saw Melissa approach from a side street.

"Jillarooooo!" she shouted enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face. "I was gettin' worried you'd been eaten an' crapped out of some deathclaw's arsehole or sumthin'."

"You're such a charmer, Melissa," En said.

"Good to see you've all made it back, though. An' let me guess, you're on your way to those mongrels who forge passes?"

"That's right," Leza said with a bounce. "This time tomorrow, we'll be in _Vegas_, baby!"

En had lost count of the times Leza had said, "_Vegas_, baby" in the last few days. Silly girl.

Mick and Ralph were their usual cheerful selves, but when Soul Patch Ralph saw the sack of caps, he suddenly became a whole lot more cooperative. "Alright, how many do you need?"

"Six in total."

"That'll be six hundred. No group discounts, sorry." He was clearly anything but sorry.

Counting out the caps took a while, and as En did so, Ralph handed each of her friends a paper, telling them to fill it out and then get their pictures taken, one by one. Ringo and Sunny were done with their papers even before En was done counting off the caps, and they followed Ralph to the back of the store to have their pictures taken, while Mick stood guard by the store window.

Meyers was next, closely followed by Melissa.

Watkins, predictably, needed the most time, probably having to write words letter per letter, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. "Um… under 'place of residence', do I put 'Brotherhood bunker', or what?"

"Shh, Leza, don't make me lose count."

"Geez. _Sor_-ry."

"What's the problem, Leza?" Sunny asked, browsing the clothes in the shop without too much interest."

"Well, under 'place of residence'," she repeated, "do I put 'Brotherhood bunker', or what?"

Sunny snorted. "Only if you want to get arrested the second you show your pass to anyone. Just put… I don't know, Novac or something. Something that's plausible, but not too close so they won't bother checking."

"Alright, and ummm… under, 'grounds'? Tourist, or something?"

"Just write something logical, that fits your look," Ringo said. "In your case, say… promo girl or something."

"Right." Her tongue again out the side of her mouth, she resumed scrawling.

"Promo girl?" Sunny asked him. "And you told me to write 'pest control'."

"I uh… well," Ringo explained awkwardly, "… your beauty is more… well, rugged. Less… plastic."

Watkins had heard, but she kept quiet, realizing what he was doing wasn't meant to insult her. Sometimes she could be perceptive. Not often, but sometimes.

"Still," Sunny said with a sour face. "Pest controller?"

"Whatcha worried about, Sunny?" Melissa asked, returning from the photo booth. "Not like there's no such thing as a pretty pest controller?"

"Hmph," Sunny grunted, not satisfied. "What'd you put?"

With a grin, Melissa said, "Bodyguard, of course."

"Might arouse suspicion," Ringo pointed out. "Bodyguard travelling alone?"

Melissa shrugged. "Maybe Sunny's such an envied pest controller that she needs protection?"

"… _Might_ work."

"What'd you write, stuffy-man?"

"Just 'trader'. Figured that was generic enough not to raise any eyebrows."

En was finally done counting out the caps, and she started filling out her own paper. The boring stuff like name, date of birth, place of birth, blah blah… Under 'grounds' she simply wrote 'Courier'. She figured it was fitting.

"Come on, you're last," Ralph said curtly. He told her to sit on a stool and try to look as little ugly as possible. Charming. A flash, and her picture was taken. She'd probably look like a total dumbshit, like people always did when they had to pose for a photo.

Well, Watkins would probably have made the awesomest picture in the history of the universe.

"Passes should be done by tomorrow morning. Come pick 'em up at ten, and not a second before."

"Alright, thanks for the kind and friendly service," En said. "It's always nice to see people take our money with a smile."

The sarcasm was lost on him. "Yes, well, like I said, ten."

"And not a second before."

There were still around two hundred caps left after the payment for the passes and a quick selection of supplies at Mick & Ralph's store. Jolly. En was determined to keep at least a hundred for gambling, but the rest could be spent on ammunition or clothing. En had her evening attire (well, casual outfit at least), Ringo would probably just traipse around in his regular get-up, as would Melissa, Watkins had her sexy body-hugging black tank top and bluejeans, Meyers was all set too, but Sunny didn't really have any casual clothes yet. It might be a good occasion to spend some time with her to have a talk, as tiring as the prospect seemed.

"Hey Sunny, why don't you and I go buy you a nice and sexy outfit?" En suggested when they stood outside again.

"Uh…"

"Yes!" Watkins cheered. "Clothes-shopping for Sunny, I'm in!"

Right, she should have seen that one coming. "Um, Leza… I was kinda hoping to spend some time with just Sunny."

Watkins' enthusiasm changed inversely proportional to Sunny's. "Oh. Right, um, sorry, didn't mean to intrude?" Ugh, now _she_ felt short-changed.

"C'mon blondie," Melissa saved the day. "Let's all go have a drink together while these two gawk at clothes."

Still against her will, Watkins conceded and said, "Alright, fine. You two have fun?" The disappointment was legible on her face. Ugh, damn drama all the time. At least Sunny would feel self-satisfied at the thought of En making time for her and her alone.

"There's a little shop down that road there," Melissa pointed out. "Got a few tacky bridal dresses, but some more normal clobber as well."

"Alright, cool, thanks."

"Take care of Cheyenne for a bit?" Sunny asked Ringo, who shrugged and took over the leash. Together, En and Sunny walked to the shop.

"So what's the occasion?" Sunny asked.

"Well… you didn't have any casual clothes yet," En half-lied. "So I figured we could go buy you some."

Sunny snorted. "You could practically _hear_ Watkins' heart break when you told her you didn't want her to come." There was a very slight trace of enjoyment in her voice.

"Well, I just thought it'd been ages since we've spent some time, just us, you know. Like in the beginning."

"That's true, I suppose."

"Come on, let's go see what they've got."

The store clerk was a flamboyantly gay dude in his late forties, who had an uncanny eye for style. After Sunny had explicitly told him, 'nothing that leaves the legs bare', he'd chirped and sought out several dresses, ("We need something that makes you appear _taller_!") and after a series of try-outs, a deep-cut red one and a slightly more modest but tighter black one remained.

"Now," Sunny said, holding both dresses by the coat hangers and looking back and forth between them. "Which one?"

Both En and the salesman stroked their chins and simultaneously buzzed, "Hmmmm…"

"The black one's more classy," En said.

"… but the red one's _sexier_," the salesman finished, complete with jazz hands.

"What do you think, sweetie? Am I classy or sexy?"

"Classy." "Sexy."

En and the salesman had spoken simultaneously, and they seemed to differ in opinion. Before En could say anything, the salesman leapt from his seat. "Come _on_, darling!" Standing behind her, he pulled at the back of her shirt, tightening it in the waist and chest. "Show off those _puppies_!" He did have a point, Sunny _was_ kinda boobed, but she always tried to hide her assets.

Awkwardly, Sunny said, "I'm not keen on showing off… uh, any puppies."

En nodded. "Go for the black one, it's more your style. Feminine but not too naked."

The salesman put his hands in his sides. "What's wrong with _naked_?"

"Uh…" Sunny said, "Everything?"

"Exactly. Pick the black one, Sunny."

"Alright. Black it is."

The salesman seemed satisfied regardless, settling for telling Sunny she'd made the second best choice of all his merchandise. The dress was rather expensive, but that was alright, En figured. Everyone had bought him- or herself a set of casuals, no reason why Sunny didn't have the right to be spoiled a bit.

"Well, that was fun!" Sunny said. "I'll wear it tomorrow."

"You better. Wanna go for a coffee or something before we head back."

"Uh… sure."

They sat down at one of the several tables set out on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop close to the clothing store. After ordering a coffee each (it was getting late and the air was getting a bit chillier), En decided it was high time the dreaded conversation was started.

"So hey, Sunny…"

"Mm?"

"How are you um, you know, feeling and stuff?"

"Me? I'm fine, why?"

"Is there… anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Oh, we can talk about anything you like?"

Ugh, she didn't mean it that way. Sunny clearly wasn't about to step forward of her own accord, so En bluntly asked, "I mean, are you afraid that I'm going to stop caring about you?"

Sunny shifted in her seat. "Not really. I mean, it's your choice who you're friends with, right?"

"Yes, but… sometimes you really act as if you're unhappy with other people being friends with me."

Sunny blinked. "You saying I'm possessive?"

Yes, Sunny. That's exactly what you are. "Not… _possessive_, no. Just… insecure?"

Sunny shrugged, even though she clearly wasn't indifferent. "No I just… I don't know, feel a bit underappreciated sometimes."

Dammit, Sunny, you feel that way because you're insecure, not because I don't give you enough recognition. "But you _do_ know I do appreciate you, right? I mean, I don't give you the impression that I take you for granted or anything?"

"No, it's just…" Sunny weaved her head out of the way as the waitress put down the coffees. "Thanks. It's just… I don't know, me trying to look out for you, you know?"

Now was the time, there might never be another chance. "Sunny… do you feel the need to protect me so much because of something that happened in the past?"

Sunny took a sip of her coffee and looked away. "What… makes you say that?"

She had to go all the way on this, it was now or never. "I uh… I know you used to have a younger sister."

At that, Sunny visibly stiffened. "Who… who told you that? Ringo?"

"It doesn't – "

"If it was Ringo," Sunny said fiercely, "then tell me now so I can break up with him for betraying my trust."

"It wasn't Ringo, Sunny," En insisted. But she had to add, "… at least, not willingly."

"What do you mean, 'not willingly'? Did you torture it out of him or what?"

_Alright_, she told herself, _fess up_. "Sunny. Don't get mad at me, but… back in that cell in Camp McCarran… well, I could hear everything you said."

Sunny was quiet, picked up her coffee cup and slowly took a drink. "Then you know, I guess. Yes, I used to have a younger sister. Was crazy about her. My parents weren't around much, and when they were, they weren't all that interested in us. So we took care of ourselves, you know?"

En let her talk.

"But Diana was always quiet, you know? A bit shy, naïve. Too good for this world. I stood up for her when she was in trouble, when other kids bothered her."

"M-hm."

"It just… felt like I had a purpose when I took care of her." Tears were standing in her eyes. "And then the thing happened with my parents. I was out hunting when some fugitive stormed into my house and took my family hostage. Federales were too lazy to negotiate or make a decent plan, so they just…" Her lower lip trembled, and in a tiny voice, she said, "… fired at the house until nothing moved anymore. When I came running back, the Federales told me my parents were dead instantly, but that my sister had lived for a few more minutes." Tears came running down her cheeks when she said, "They just stood there… told me without a shred of sympathy. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Just like that: 'your parents didn't suffer, but your thirteen-year-old sister still clung to life for a few minutes with her guts shot out'. Fuckers even managed to sound impressed."

"Geez, Sunny…"

Pulled back to the present, Sunny hastily wiped her tears, ashamed of showing them. "Anyway, after Diana died, I swore to myself I'd never turn my back on people long enough for something to happen to them."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Their coffees were going cold, but that didn't matter.

"What was I supposed to say? That I'm damaged goods?"

En shrugged. "Pft. Isn't everyone these days?"

"Everyone except Watkins maybe."

"Okay, Sunny, you really need to put this idea out of your head, that it's like, a competition or something." She looked Sunny straight in the eye, and meant it when she said, "Sunny, there is no one in this group I feel more closely connected to than you. You try my patience sometimes, but I'll never forget that it was we three who set out first. I never told you how happy I was that you broke into a run on that sunny morning and ran after us, and maybe I should have. I'll never forget seeing you in the bar in Goodsprings and just… looking up to you. Thinking, wow, this is a woman I _respect_."

"Yeah," Sunny said with a humourless chuckle. "Bet there's not much of that left now."

Come on, Sunny, stop being so needy. "You kidding? Just because things are rocky between us sometimes doesn't mean I respect you any less."

Sunny wiped the last of her tears with her sleeve. "I swore I'd never cry again too. Crying is for losers."

"You're not a loser, Sunny. But what you do need to understand…"

"Mm?"

Now, how to put this delicately. "… is that I'm not your little sister. I never will be. Nothing can bring her back, no one can replace her. You need to find some way to leave this little-sister fixation behind."

"I know," Sunny said calmly, looking out at Freeside and the setting sun. "I was just so happy when you came along, you know? Then there was Melissa, being all invincible and badass. And Watkins, all giggly and carefree. It felt like they were stealing you from me. It's just… Something told me that this was my chance to do it right this time."

"You're my friend, Sunny. As long as we both keep that in mind, everything we do is right."

Sunny nodded. "Yeah, guess so."

"So stop thinking someone's going to become more important to me than you. I haven't been giving you so much appreciation because I assumed you knew I cared about you implicitly. I guess that was wrong of me." Now, say what you want, but this situation was being masterfully dealt with.

Sunny set the coffee cup to her lips. "Ugh. Cold." She set it down again. "We're still B.F.F., whatever that means, right?"

"You bet yer ass."

En mentally congratulated herself on a job well done. Damn, keeping people loyal was a tough job. Always saying stuff they wanted to hear. But she'd succeeded yet again. That'd keep Sunny satisfied for a while.


	37. The Path Was Closed

**.**

**THIRTY-SEVEN**

**Atomic Wrangler**

**July 10th**

**11:41**

Holy shit she'd slept almost 'til noon!

Watkins' side of the bed was empty, and no noise came from the bathroom. The initial headache from jumping awake slowly faded back to its familiar faint throbbing. Why had she jumped anyway? Sure, she'd overslept, but it wasn't like she had to go to school or anything. Realizing she had all the time in the world, she lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes for five more minutes, then took a shower, peed (holy shit she almost didn't feel anything anymore!), hitched herself into her heavy leather gear and headed down for breakfast.

Melissa was the only one still sitting at a table, slowly drinking a cup of coffee and staring intently at something on the tabletop.

"Hey Melissa."

"Mm? Oh, hey jillaroo."

The object she'd been staring at was the copy of the history of New Arroyo En had brought along and given to Meyers for his perusal. Oddly, she wasn't reading the book, just looking at the front. Or no, the back cover. Reading the synopsis, maybe?

"Whatcha doin'?"

Melissa's eyes stayed on the back cover. "Oh, just… lookin'."

Wait a second. She wasn't looking at the text on the cover, she was looking at the photo. Of course! "See anything you like?" En asked with a grin.

"More like 'love'." Melissa held up the book. "I assume this is your famous statue girl?"

Looking back at En was the old polaroid her father had retrieved from the lynched police chief's belongings. The statue girl was on it, smiling broadly, her eyes slightly squinted against the sun, the light catching her tousled black hair and reflecting in her pale blue eyes. Her at-the-time husband, the police chief, had been on it too, but after consulting the two remaining survivors of her old group, they'd opted to only put her on the cover, since it was, after all, her story first and foremost. "Yeppers, statue girl. Right there."

Melissa looked at the photo again. "Hey jill, would you mind if I came back to your town with you when this is over?"

The question took her by surprise, but it was a pleasant one. "Uh, what? Yeah, sure, of course not, it'd be awesome!"

"She should be around forty now, right? No matter. Girls like her, they stay gorgeous their whole lives anyway."

Oh, dear. Ohhh, dear. Looks like Melissa hadn't been listening when En told Sunny and Ringo about the statue girl. "Uh… Melissa?"

"Yeah?"

"The statue girl, she… well, she's been dead for almost twenty years."

En couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Melissa's face showing a bit of genuine hurt. "Figures."

"Uh, Melissa? It's just a picture, right?"

Melissa put the book down and took a sip from her coffee. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." She turned to En. "En, do you think it's possible to fall in love with a picture?"

En almost never heard Melissa address her by her first name, so she must have been conversing on a very personal level all of a sudden. "I… 've never had it happen, but I suppose it's not impossible. I thought you weren't the kind to fall in love?"

"Not with real people, no," Melissa admitted. "Because it's never real love, is it? There's always a selfish aspect, an urge you need fulfilled personally. It's not really love, it's… an arrangement. A need." She was silent for a moment, then said, "In a way, that's she's dead is a good thing."

En blinked. She hadn't pegged Melissa for a necrophile. "Excuse me?"

"There is only one kind of real love, and that's love for the truly unattainable."

Oh, like that. "I… guess?" It was a bit awkward to see butch, tough Melissa waxing all emotional. Well, as emotional as you could ever get if you were a double-bemohawked, tattooed, muscled biker bitch from Hell, anyway.

"It is. It's love that expects nothin' in return. Can I hold onto this for a while?"

"The book? Sure, I lent it to Meyers but if he's okay with it, why not."

"Ace, jillaroo."

"So where the Hell is everyone?"

Melissa slid the book in her pack and grinned. "Doin' what you should've been doin' at ten AM."

Ah, shit the passes. "Yeah, I uh… overslept." They should've just woken her up, so she didn't feel guilty at all.

With a shrug, Melissa said, "Means you needed it."

"So, you feeling better?"

"I always feel good," Melissa said with a cocky smile.

"You know what I mean. Did you get some rest?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Was doin' a small bodyguardin' job yesterday, made us some money. A hundred, not much, but it should let us sit at the tables a bit longer tonight."

That was good news. "Cool! But… Meyers said you'd been shacking up with a doctor at the Old Mormon Fort."

Indignant, Melissa let her mouth fall open. "He did? Ah, the old weasel. Well, it's arse. I was playin' bodyguard to the chick, nuthin' more."

"Nothing more?"

"Nuthin' more. I admit I've body-guarded uglier chicks in my life, but it was purely professional."

"Heh, alright."

Melissa looked back at the book. "Pay for my coffee, yeah?"

Oh, right, she had the caps. "Only if I can drink one too."

She ordered a new coffee for Melissa and one for herself, and brought them back to the table.

"So jill, if we end up in Vegas and you get the chance to do Benny over… what happens? You made a decision yet?"

En put the coffee to her lips, then winced from the heat and put it back down. It was a question she'd been thinking of for a while. "Not really, no. I mean, I'd like to say I'd stay calm and just tell him to answer me, but… I don't really know what I'd do. What would you do if you were in my place?" She realized it was a dumb question as soon as she asked it.

"I'm not the person you should be askin' this to," Melissa said evenly. "But if I was, I'd tell you to shoot the mongrel in the face."

That was… unexpected. "Wh at, shoot him in the face?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you didn't do it to me, but I deserved it. You know I realize that, so stop bashin' my ear about it." She had a point.

"Alright, sorry. I'm just saying, I don't know what I'll do yet."

Melissa got up, finishing her second coffee. "Well, you might wanna start thinkin' about it. We'll find him in Vegas. You know that."

She was right, it was time to start making a decision, but the thing was, she simply didn't know whether or not she'd be able to hold back. The bastard had shot a hole in her skull and condemned her to headaches and seizures for the rest of her life. And all for a tiny little object he already had. It had just been so arbitrary, so unnecessary. And even though she didn't want it, she felt anger and hatred welling up inside her simply by thinking about it. She closed her eyes and pushed the hate back down, the headache again lessening with it. Then she rose and went to drop the necessary caps on the counter.

"Hey, girl?" the bartender asked. It was the sister this morning.

"Mm?"

"Couldn't help but overhear you're going into Vegas, and that you've collected a few bounties. I got one more for you if you like?"

"Uh, sure, I guess?" Some more money couldn't hurt. This wasn't an official bounty licensed by the NCR military, though, so it might not be an actual murderer or criminal, and there was a thin line between bounty hunter and hitman.

She slid a polaroid over the counter. There was a middle-aged man wearing a fedora on it, with a brown-gray horseshoe moustache. His face was weathered and rugged, and he didn't look like a pushover. "Who is he and what's he done?"

"That," the bartender said, "is Caleb McCaffery. Supposed bounty hunter himself, but the last bounty he brought in walked into my god damn bar two days later. He's a cheat and a liar, and you don't mess with the Garret twins."

"So you want us to bring him back?"

"No," she said coldly. "I want you to shoot him in the dick and then in the face, and bring me that hat as proof." She tapped her finger on the polaroid photo. "Five hundred caps in it for you."

Five hundred was a lot of money, but killing someone over a business dispute? That was a little exaggerated, wasn't it? "You want him killed because he told you a lie?"

"Yes."

"Uh… we'll see." En had no intention of killing a man just because he'd been a bit dishonest. Still, not turning it down out of hand seemed like a more diplomatic solution than just telling her to stuff it. _Look at that_, she told herself, _here's me being diplomatic_.

With a shrug, the bartender took the photo back. "Well, no obligation. Just sayin' he's worth a lot of money if you see the sonovabitch."

"Yeah, yeah," Melissa said. "We'll keep it in mind, yeah?"

They headed outside, into the leaden midday sun, and saw four people and a dog coming towards them. One of them broke into a run, madly waving her arms and the booklets in them. "Ennie! Ennie! Look what we got?"

Watkins had run as fast as her well-formed legs could carry her, and she skidded to a stop in front of them. "Passes! Passes for Vegas, baby!"

"Jolly," Melissa remarked flatly.

"Here's yours, here's yours!" Watkins handed her a little bourgondy booklet. En folded it open, tearing the little paper seal on it and saw herself staring back at her, looking absolutely dreadful, dull eyes looking out from a stunned and numb-looking face. With a groan, she said, "Ugh, I look like a teenage boy pop star caught drunk and half asleep."

With a snooty little smile, Watkins said, "I don't look half-bad?" She folded open her own booklet and held it out to her proudly, and En had to admit, how ever grudgingly, that she looked beautiful, looking straight into the camera with an angelic smile, the contrast between her yellow hair and her tan skin coming out wonderfully. Stupid sexy Watkins.

"Here's yours, Melis-_sa_?" Watkins said, presenting Melissa with her own little booklet, handing it to her with a haughty flick of the wrist. Melissa didn't even fold it open, just stuck it in her jacket pocket.

"Aww, no fun?" Watkins complained. "Come on, show, show!"

"Go away, little ankle-biter," Melissa grunted.

"I'm not going anywhere! Show, show!"

Melissa rolled her eyes and fished out the little booklet. "Here, knock yourself out, yeah?"

"Ooooh, can I?" Watkins took the booklet back and tore it open. She stared at it for a second and then said. "Hm."

With another roll of her eyes, Melissa said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm an ugly bitch, I know."

"Actually," Watkins said. "Well, it's a really nice photo. Look." Without warning, she held the photo to Melissa's eyes who, after briefly pulling her head back, looked intently at the photo.

"You know what," Melissa muttered. "I don't look horrible."

"Not at all," Watkins said, and with a bounce, she added, "We're all really pretty people!"

The others had reached them now, and Sunny said, with a grin that could mean many things, "She rubbing her photo in your faces too, huh?"

"Incessantly."

"Come on, come on," Watkins chirped. "Let's see yours, Sunny! I bet you look totally hot?"

With an embarrassed grin, Sunny gave Watkins her pass. "You'll be disappointed, I'm afraid."

"Mm, yeah," Watkins said pensively. "You… certainly look much better in real life?"

"Better a horrible photo and a decent face than a decent photo and a horrible face," was all Sunny had to say to that. Whether it was a stab at someone or just an observation was impossible to tell.

"Now you, Ringo!" Watkins insisted, completely giddy. When Ringo produced his pass with a roll of his eyes and held it out to her, Watkins frowned and said, "Ugh, was it that much bother just to at least _try_ to smile?"

Without a word, Ringo closed his pass again and put it in his pocket.

"Mine's pretty bland too," Meyers said before Watkins could ask, handing it to her.

"Hey, you look like a kind old grandpa," Watkins aww'ed. "It's totally adorable?"

That merited only a grunt from Meyers as he pocketed his pass.

"_So_," Watkins said, clapping. "Now that we have our passes…?"

There was no stopping her. And it seemed everyone else was waiting for permission too, all eyes on En. "Yeah. It's time, right?"

Leza squealed and bounced. "Vegas, baby, _Vegas_!"

"I can't deny I'm looking forward to some games of chance myself," Meyers joined her, though less exuberantly. "Let's go collect our things and hope these passes hold up under inspection."

It was a quick trip to and from the Wrangler, everyone had packed their bags already except En, who had to throw everything in her backpack under the impatient eye of Watkins, who was waiting in the doorway. Everyone was dressed in their casuals except En. Well, and Melissa, who only had one set of clothes anyway.

"Come _onnnnn_, Ennie!"

"Leza, stop being so nervous," En bit at her while she stuffed her sponge bag into her pack. "It's only one thirty, there's nothing to do yet."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Watkins blurted out. "There's, like, shows and stuff. Dance acts, and singers, and all kinds of awesomeness!"

En sighed. "The awesomeness will be there tomorrow too."

She felt Watkins' foot nudge her ass. "When did you become so boring?"

"Did you just lesbo-footsex me?"

"Tch," Watkins said, flicking her hair back. "You wish. Come on, let's go, let's _go_."

En sighed and shook her head. "Giddy as a school girl."

"Me? I was never giddy, even when I was a school girl."

"Would you have made it past the rats?"

"Mm?"

"Nothing. Anyway, I'm ready. I'm just gonna change into my c – "

"No, no," Watkins scolded. "No, you're not. We've been waiting too long. Come on, slowpoke?"

"I swear," En said as she threw her backpack over her shoulder, "One day your heart's gonna beat right out of your chest."

"Well at least that'll happen when I'm happy and excited, so I'll die feeling good?"

The others already stood waiting outside. Melissa was telling them about the bounty, though not very enthusiastically, and when En and Leza emerged, they all waited for the nod of approval.

"Okay, let's go."

Watkins gave a little chirp and they set off, through the broad, shattered streets of Freeside, past a building called School of Impersonation (well, School of I personation, since the 'm' had gone dark), and past a big walled structure which Melissa pointed out was the Old Mormon Fort. At the end of the broad street was a large rusted iron gate, with razorwire on it, and barbed wire spanning the lengths between the gate and the walls. In front of the gate stood two big robots, similar to Victor, but instead of two unwieldy grabbers they had only one, with an undersized gatling gun on the end of the other arm. The monitor set in the middle of their rusty old torsos displayed a cartoonish picture of a police officer's head, rather than that of a cowboy, like old Victor had had.

As they approached the gate, one of the Securitron bots rolled forward and said, in a metal robotic voice, "Present identification, please."

Swallowing unnoticeably (at least, she hoped), En handed her pass to the Securitron unit. God, how she hated robots. A small tube extended out of the machine's torso, and the robotic hand held En's pass in front of the tube. The red fan of a laser reader flashed across the pass, and the robot stood quietly, processing the data.

Then, suddenly, the gatling gun came up with a high-pitched _bzzzt_, and the robot intoned, "Pass read error. Remain stationary or deadly force will be utilized." En's stomach contracted into a ball. Oh fuck it was gonna detect that they were fake passports and that gun would open fire, every bullet taking a chunk of En's flesh away until she was nothing but a pair of legs with a bloody red stump on top, shredded organs hanging down her pants, standing upright for a few seconds before falling over with a wet _splat_.

"Commencing second attempt to read pass."

The red laser beams passed over the pass again. There was a moment of silence that lasted for a lifetime, and then the robot intoned, "Access granted. Welcome to Las Vegas. Please abide by all the rules and regulations within and enjoy yourselves safely."

En's breath forced itself out of her lungs with a loud wheeze. Holy shit she'd thought she was done for. The robot extended its grabbing claw to her, handing her the pass back. Then she realized: there'd been a black smear across the barcode, probably some oil or something that had got on her fingers when she hooked her tool belt around her waist. Dammit, she'd almost been shot to shreds because of a bit of oil.

"That… was close," Watkins breathed.

"Yeah. Uh… make sure your barcodes are clean. No uh, smears or anything." She slid her pass back into her pocket. "Man, I almost got turned into chunky salsa."

"You next, Leza," Sunny said, a goading look on her face.

Watkins held her pass between two fingers, looking more than a bit reluctant to hand it to the Securitron.

"Go on blondie," Melissa joined in. "Thought you were so eager to get in."

"Yyyeeeahhh…"

With a chuckle, En told her, "Leza. There was an oil smear on the barcode of my pass. Make sure it's clean and you'll be fine."

"Gah," Watkins gave in, pushing the pass out at the robot. "But if this thing shoots me, like, to pulp, I'm…" she had to think for a second, "gonna haunt each and every one of you and watch you masturbate!"

Despite Watkins' terror, the pass was cleared instantly, as were the ones of everyone else. Every single read pass was accompanied by the same boring bit of advice, to enjoy themselves safely. Whatever, stupid bots.

As the last pass, Meyers', was scanned, the gate rolled open with a deafening clanging, and they stepped into Las Vegas.


	38. The Path Is Open

.

**LUCKY THIRTY-EIGHT**

**Vegas, baby, ****_Vegas_****!**

**July 10****th**

**14:52**

At first sight, Vegas was everything En had expected, and at the same time it wasn't.

She'd expected the lights, even in the middle of the hot, sunny day, and she'd expected the tall buildings, the billboards, the tacky slogans on them and the music bopping out of the speakers in front of the casinos.

She hadn't expected the people. Proppers stood outside of the casinos and bordellos, shouting themselves hoarse just to get a few more customers inside, whores (because they were dressed as them) stood leaning against the walls, smoking cigarettes and advertising bodies with cellulite dimples in their legs and bruises in the crooks of their elbows and chem-wasted teeth. Three NCR troopers waddled through the streets, drunk as Irishmen, leaning on each other and tripping over their own feet. From a distance, an NCR soldier with a black MP-armband noticed them and jogged toward them, his baton ready to give them all a good electrically-charged thrashing. There were beggars in the streets, though not as many as in Freeside. En imagined not too many actually got in, and those that did were probably very quickly displaced. It was all really decadent, she felt.

The Securitrons were here too, patrolling the city. They didn't seem to bother the NCR soldiers, but En was certain that any troublemakers quickly got their asses handed to them.

Most of the buildings were of a decent size, but three stood out. One casino called Gomorrah had fiery red letters hung high to show how special it was. En's biblical knowledge wasn't stellar, but she knew what the deal with the city of Gomorrah had been, so she imagined gambling wasn't the only thing that went on in there. Another noticeable casino was a stylish white structure called the Ultra Luxe. It was a ridiculous name, but at least it didn't look anywhere near as sleazy as that Gomorrah place. The third and last big casino looked to be a more wholesome place, called the Tops. The billboard advertised mostly singing and dancing acts, and there was even an actual musical advertised. Then again, this was Vegas, so for all En knew, all those acts were done naked with a midget's arm up the ass.

"We're finally here," Watkins sighed with a broad smile. Then her giddiness came back. "Which casino do we go to first? That Gomorrah place looks like it's a _lot_ of fun!"

For her, yeah.

"Let's focus on what we're here for, Leza." Sunny said, taking the words out of En's mouth. "We need to find that bastard Benny first."

"Right, right," Watkins said, containing herself. "Shithead who shot Ennie first, gambling later."

"We can at least go grab a beer at that stand though," Meyers pointed out. Finely, he added, "Or a scotch."

"Ooh yay beer!" Watkins chirped. With Meyers, Sunny and Ringo, she walked to the drinks stand while Melissa and En remained behind to see what had to be done now. "So, Melissa, where's our friend B – "

"Well, _howdy_ pardner!"

Oh man, this _had_ to be a joke. With a long, grunting sigh, En lowered her head and groaned, "Hello, Victor."

"Imagine runnin' into you here, little trail hand!"

"Yeah. Imagine."

"Made it all the way here from John Chisum's ranch. I'm impressed, cowgirl!'

"What do you _want_, Victor?"

The Securitron-with-cowboy-face-monitor rode around her on its one wheel so she faced it, then proudly announced, "I have the pleasure to invite you to the Lucky 38!"

"Got the _whot_?" Melissa asked incredulously. "All the time you've been followin' us, you little rotter, it was just to advertise a flippin' casino?"

There was the sound of three disapproving tongue-clicks, and then Victor, in its perpetually cheerful, annoying, thin, tinny voice said, "Well shucks, my Apache friend, I done expressed myself completely wrong. I meant to say there's someone who'd like to have a little word with your little pardner here. Concernin' that varmint with his checkered livery."

Wait, _what_ did he say?

"You know where I can find Benny?" En demanded to know.

"Shucks, no, little trail hand, I'm just a poor lonesome cowboy, an' a long, long way from home. But my sheriff, he knows about that yellow-bellied outlaw, an' he's waitin' for you to tie your horse to the post at the Lucky 38."

Well, that was an appointment she couldn't afford to miss. The tower of the Lucky 38 was the highest in all of Vegas, visible from far away, even from Goodsprings. So that was the mysterious tower she'd seen at the horizon. And she'd seen it when she'd been on her knees and looking into the barrel of a gun too. God damn Benny.

At the thought, fireflies zipped across her vision. "Melissa, I'm getting one," she merely said, and then her muscles went beyond her control again, and she felt herself going to the ground, her legs no longer supporting her. Melissa had the reflex to catch her, she felt, and lower her gently to the ground, taking off her leather vest and showing it under her head so she didn't hurt herself. All En could do was wait out the seizure, powerless as it took control of her and sent her limbs twitching and flailing.

"Well slap my ass an' call me Sally, looks like our little trail hand's not feelin' too w – "

"Shut your damn face right now, you mongrel," Melissa snapped at the robot. "Y'alright, jillaroo?"

The seizure slowly abated, the blinding head pain coming down gradually and the ear-shrieking lessening to a tolerable level. It had been a bad seizure, but they hadn't been as frequent since she'd been taking the anti-depressants. As she regained control over her muscles, En hoped the anti-depressants would work even better over time, because this was terrible. Worst of all, she'd had one in front of that rotten bucket of bolts, Victor.

"I'm… okay," she breathed, sitting up. "God damn seizures."

Melissa sat kneeled next to her. "Yeah. For what it's worth, I still hate mys – "

"Don't. Hating yourself doesn't help anyone, least of all me."

"Yeah." She stood up and held out her hand to pull En up as well. "Guess you're right about that."

"This is all Benny's fault," En said, her teeth clenched. The bastard would pay.

"We'll find him, En. We're dead close, I'm positive."

"Yeah."

Victor had rolled away, finally realizing he was too much. Good.

"You alright, miss?" two NCR MP's asked, looking at her concerned. "Had a bit too much, huh?"

"_No_," she snapped, pointing at the side of her head. "I get seizures ever since some shitbitch shot me in the head. Got any more insensitive questions?"

"Uh… no, miss," the MP said, hopefully feeling incredibly stupid. "Sorry, uh, we just wanted to check up on you and all."

"I'm fine," En said.

"Now bugger off," Melissa added sharply. "Go shoot some women and children!"

"Hey, that's uncalled for," the MP half-shouted, lifting his baton, but his partner took him by the shoulder and said, "Let it go, Tom. Let's just leave it alone."

The MP stood glaring at Melissa for a moment longer, then followed his partner, disappearing in the crowd.

"Arseholes," Melissa grunted after them.

"I'm alright," En said again. "Let's get to that Lucky 38 place then?"

They picked up the others, who'd just finished their drinks, and walked through the crowd together, keeping an eye on each other and their packs, because there was no way there weren't any pickpockets and thieves in this place. It was simply impossible.

They arrived at the Lucky 38 without incident, however, and the tower was surrounded by long, red concentric stairs, leading to a broad dark glass double door. There wasn't much activity inside, and the place looked to be closed. Like it had been for a long time, in fact. The stairs were completely free of people (and litter), but next to the door was her old friend Victor. En took the liberty of counting him among the nonexistent litter.

As they stepped up the stairs to the grey stone tower with its red stripes running up its sides, Victor rolled up to them and said, "Ah, pardner, 'fraid I can't let you pass. Not like that anyway."

Ugh, what now? "Victor," she said with barely contained anger, "you told me to come here and now you're telling me I can't go in. Start making sense before I take my screwdriver to your back plate."

"Aw, well shucks, little trail hand! No need to get all riled up. You can go in, butcha gotta leave your band of cowboys behind. Only the Courier's allowed into the saloon, I'm afraid."

"What, I can only go in alone?"

"Got that right, little cowgirl."

"Whoa, whoa," Sunny promptly protested. "You're expecting her to go into this creepy-ass abandoned casino all on her own? What, didn't she get shot in the head enough times yet?"

"Ma'am, it breaks my heart, but yes, that's exactly what I'm sayin'. Now don't be worryin' too much. Mr. House don't got nothin' to gain by murderin' a little cowgirl in cold blood. We're a place of business, not a slaughterhouse."

"That's what _you_ say," Melissa said. "But you're still tellin' a kid to go into a buildin' on her own without knowin' what's inside."

"Yeah," Watkins joined in. "That's, like, totally not gonna happen."

"I don't think there's much to fear," Ringo said calmly. "Not much is known about Mr. House, but I _will_ tell you he is indeed a businessman, not a murderer. I'm rather certain Mr. House didn't try to get you murdered. In fact, I'm rather convinced – "

"… That he's the original addressee or your package," Meyers completed.

"Exactly."

"Mr. House?" En asked. "Who the fuck is Mr. House?"

"He's the de facto boss of Las Vegas. Surprised you've never heard of him?"

"Well, no. It's my first time this far out, remember?"

"Lots of rumours about him, but none that portray him as a murderer," Ringo continued. "I'm sure he wouldn't have anything to gain by killing you either."

"Don't think so either," Meyers supported him. "But he just might intend to use you as a sucker to get his delivery back, so don't let him fill your head with promises of revenge, now."

"I still think it's a bad idea to let her go alone," Sunny said, crossing her arms as Cheyenne looked up at her, panting. En still suspected the damn dog of actually understanding them.

"Your decision, jillaroo."

It was a risk, but one she had to take. She'd come this far and if she wanted to find Benny, this was her best bet. And if Ringo said this Mr. House dude wasn't the murdering sort, then she supposed he wasn't. Whoever he was. "I'll take the chance," she said, earning her a disapproving sigh from Sunny and Leza. "I need to do this, I didn't come all this way to chicken out now. Can I keep my weapons?" she asked Victor.

"Sure thing, pardner, you can keep your shootin' irons."

"Alright, I'm ready."

Victor rolled out of the way, even though the door was more than wide enough for her to be able to pass him, and she approached the door, which slid open as she came near.

Stepping through after one last look at her friends, she found herself in a casino, but there was no one inside. The place was meticulously maintained though, the carpets were bright red and free of dust, as were the one-armed bandits, blackjack and roulette tables, and the bars and stools. The place was gloomy, but she could find her way easily enough. Another Securitron stood by the lift in the centre of the casino floor. En assumed that was where she had to go. As she approached the bot, the stern cop cartoon face disappeared, replaced by Victor's annoying cowboy grin.

So _that_ was how the fucker did it, always being one step ahead. He simply jumped to any bot he wanted. Well, _it_, because it was still software, but the Victor software could actually switch units as needed. She hated Victor even more now.

"Get your saddle-sore behind into the lift here, little trail hand," Victor told her. "So you'll finally see what's at the top of the church tower."

En figured they probably wouldn't drop the elevator from up high just to kill her in a more spectacular fashion, so she got in. The doors closed and the elevator buzzed into action. En had never been in an elevator before, and the feeling of the cage around her accelerating upwards was most peculiar, as was the gentle stop at the end. The elevator floor opened with a cute little _ding_, and she stepped out of it, looking out at the blue sky through the far wall, which was one giant window, really.

"Penthouse floor," a robot inhabited by Victor announced. Creepy.

She was on a mezzanine overlooking a lounge, which apparently went all the way in a circle, following the ring of the saucer-like construction they were in, giving a breathtaking panoramic view. The lounge was, just like the casino, immaculately maintained, but completely devoid of people. She stepped down the stairs, between the tables, and towards the window. The glass was angled towards the ground, so she could look all the way down to the street level. God damn she was up high, at least twenty metres. She could see Sunny and Melissa and Leza and Ringo and Meyers standing on the red stairs ringing the casino, tiny toy people from her height. None of them looked up, though, so they couldn't see her. Shame.

"Miss?" a female robotic voice gently asked behind her.

En turned around, "Yeah?"

"Hi," she spoke in a Southern secretary voice, pronouncing it not "Hi", but "Haah." On its monitor was the cartoon face of a blonde secretary with fifties helmet hair. "Welcome to the Lucky 38. Gorgeous view, isn't it? You had an appointment with Mr. House, right?" She didn't wait for the answer. "If you please, could you step over here? Mr. House is ready to see you now."

Aw, she didn't get time to enjoy the view more. Ah well. Work came first. She followed the Securitron through the circular lounge, until they came to a pale blue curtain. "Mr. House is right behind this curtain," the robot announced redundantly. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to call on me. Just ask for Jane, that's me."

"Uh huh."

With that, the robot shut up and moved aside. Taking a short breath, En stepped through the curtain.

She'd expected to see a man in a suit sitting there, possibly stroking a tiger or something, flanked by half-naked oiled female black bodyguards, but there was no such thing. The bodyguards were two Securitron robots, and the man in the suit, well… it technically was a man in a suit, only it was a bust projected onto an enormous television screen, at least her height, and possibly more. It hung three metres high, so that anyone talking to it would have to look up and presumably feel humbled.

The bust itself was of a stylish and handsome gentleman with a thin fifties moustache and black hair, slicked over and parted to one side. The face was motionless apart from the occasional flicker of the screen. It was the face not of a rich businessman, but that of a star actor playing the _part_ of the rich businessman.

"Uh… hi," En said to the monitor.

"Ah. The Courier," the speakers droned in a cultured, somewhat aloof male voice. "I was beginning to think no one would show up."

"Well… I'm here now, I guess."

"So you are. Victor reported your progress to me. You've made it here in one piece, and I suppose some would consider that an achievement."

Not exactly generous with praise, this one. "An achievement, yeah. I try to get as many of those as possible so I can show everyone how hardcore I am."

"Your snarky tone will not win you any favours." He promptly dismissed the matter and introduced himself. "I, as you may know, am Mr. House. New Vegas is my territory, and I've overseen it for longer than I care to remember. I have many people working for me – and I don't mean the robots – and without knowing, you were in my employ as well."

Yeah, so Ringo and Meyers had been right. "Let me guess, the package?"

"Indeed. The package."

A silence fell, probably because this computerized windbag thought it'd make her nervous. But shit, she wasn't about to let herself be brought off-balance by a stupid face on a stupid screen. "Is this the part where you make an offer I can't refuse?"

Another short silence, and then, "As disagreeable as I find your attitude, yes, I have an offer for you. I am prepared to pay you most handsomely for the retrieval of this package."

"The platinum chip, you mean?"

A short flicker went through the screen. "I paid good money to ensure safe delivery, and secrecy, and I see now that I have received neither."

"Yeah, well, I was robbed just outside Goodsprings, by someone who knew damn well what he was looking for, and he's the one who took the chip out of the package and showed it off to me," En shot back. "Hardly my fault."

"The safety of the object entrusted in your care is your responsibility. But in all fairness," the computerized voice said, "the carelessness was partly mine as well."

"Yeah. I don't think that Benny guy just happened to be in the neighbourhood when he took my package, made me get on my knees and shot me in the head."

"Quite. Now then, it would seem we both require something from my erstwhile associate. And the platinum chip is where it all begins."

En already knew what was coming. "Right. You want me to prance to wherever it is he's hiding and get your precious little chip back."

"Your perceptiveness is astounding."

"What makes you think I'll just do what you say?"

The computerized voice made something that resembled a chuckle. "If the monetary reward isn't incentive enough, then I daresay the answers to your questions doubtless will be."

She wasn't falling for that one so easily. She crossed her arms at the screen. "What makes you think I even _have_ questions that need answering?"

Another digital chuckle. "You would not have come here if you didn't. And at this time, only Benny or myself can answer them. I am not yet inclined to do so," he paused for effect, "and I think you'll find Benny even less cooperative."

Alright, he had her on that one. Damn, she _was_ falling for it so easily. "Ugh, you know what, fine. Where is that asshole Benny?"

She practically _heard_ the victorious gloating in its voice. "You'll find him in the Tops casino. He and his associate Swank are in charge of the place. Both are in my pocket, or at least they were, until Benny turned on me."

"Whatever this platinum chip is, or what it's worth," En pointed out, "you sure protected it pretty badly if it was that precious to you."

Grudgingly, the voice with the face of the fifties actor-playing-businessman admitted, "Placing my trust in Benny was a mistake, indeed. One you will soon rectify, I assume?"

There came the question again. "I… haven't decided yet."

"Hmph. Mercy. The great inhibitor to success. Be that as it may, I deliberately chose an anonymous and unprotected delivery. My enemies knew I needed the chip and that I would try to bring it here. Think on it, what is more suspicious, a courier carrying a little box all on his own, or an entire caravan with armed guards?"

"Yeah, fat lot of good your approach did to me."

"What's done is done. And I was not responsible for your mishap. Benny was the one who made the decision to betray me and victimize you. You should seek restitution from him, not me. I'm offering you an opportunity."

"I already said fine," En said with a frown. "Just don't think I consider you the good guy."

A laugh came from the speakers, the first sound they had produced that actually sounded sincere. "I harbour no illusions about what side of the karmic coin I am thought to find myself on. I don't expect you to follow my instructions out of a deluded sense of right and wrong. I'm offering you an opportunity, one that requires you to ally with me for a certain amount of time. No more."

She'd heard enough. "Tops casino, huh?"

"Indeed. Return to me when you have the platinum chip. Don't bother showing up before then."

She was going to try to wring some information out of him while she still could. "I have more questions before I go."

"No," the voice calling itself Mr. House said calmly, but firmly. "No more questions. Jane will show you out. Good day."

En turned away and under her breath muttered, "fucker."

"These audio receptors are highly sensitive, miss Tessara. I suggest you keep your thoughts in your head, unless you'd like my Securitrons to get them out of there along with everything else."

Oops. Bus-ted. "No thanks," she said, walking out, "I've had enough head trauma to last a lifetime."

The elevator ride down was uneventful, and after navigating the gloomy casino floor, she found herself back in the sunlight. Only Melissa and Watkins were waiting at the base of the stairs.

"The others have gone to find a place to stay," Melissa told her as she joined them back on the street. "We're meetin' back here in half an hour."

"So we've got some girl-only time?" Watkins chirped. "Let's go do something fun!"

"Sure, yeah," En said. She knew where to find Benny now, and he'd probably be there often, so at least there was no more rush. "Whatcha wanna do?"

"Oooh, I don't know," Watkins said, bouncing and clapping her hands. "There's so much to see, so much to do?"

"Well, we can always go for a beer?"

"Beer, yeah!" Watkins agreed.

They shouldered through the crowd to a drinks stand and ordered three beers. En preferred soda, but for the sake of camaraderie, she ordered the same as the others.

"Cheers, mongrels," Melissa said, hoisting her beer into the air. Watkins toasted along enthusiastically, and they drunk their beer. It was ice cold and tasted pretty damn refreshing. They talked a bit about this and that before the others returned, ordering a new round of beers when Sunny, Ringo and Meyers came back to join them.

"Hey sweetie, so? What'd you find out?" Sunny asked, uncapping her beer. It was always nice when bartenders let you keep the cap. A single cap was worthless, but the gesture was important.

"I know where Benny is," En said, beaming.

"Aha!" Meyers exclaimed enthusiastically. "Your quest draws to a close!"

"We'll see about that," En said, kinda hoping it wouldn't be over just yet, because despite her occasional frustration, she really was enjoying her time with these new friends. "But he's apparently at the Tops casino."

"I think I saw a billboard for that a short way back," Ringo said.

"M-hm, we walked past it."

"Check it out now?" Sunny asked.

Much as she wanted to, En smiled and said, "No, tonight we're going to forget why we're here and have some fun!"

"Hell _yeah_, Ennie!" Watkins cheered, full of enthusiasm, pumping a fist into the air. "Vegas, baby!"

Meyers had to grin at that and agree with a frugal, "Well, quite."

"Our finances equipped to handle the onslaught?" Ringo asked. En interpreted his question as an approval.

"I think so, yeah, we have umm…" she quickly counted in her head, "around two hundred caps left. Minus the cost for the rooms…?"

"They were twenty a night, per person," Sunny said, looking guilty."Not exactly the cheapest."

"Mmmno, but just you wait and see, I'll double our money in no time," En said confidently.

"Okay, okay," Watkins chirped. "Me and Ennie are going to gamble and stuff, who's coming too?"

"I am," Sunny said. "Well, we are, right?"

With a shrug, Ringo said, "Sure. Let's just not get too exuberant, shall we?"

"Nah," En said. "We're gonna gamble to have fun, not to waste caps."

"It stands to reason that I'm joining you," Meyers said. "Good company, a good game, a good scotch and a good pipe, there is very little better."

"A good book?" En asked.

With a grin, Meyers said, "Very little doesn't mean nothing."

Watkins said, "You coming too, Melissa?"

"I wouldn't wanna miss out on the chance to see you guys in tuxedoes and cocktail dresses," Melissa answered. "Sure yeah, count me in."

"Will you be wearing a cocktail dress too, Melissa?" En couldn't resist asking.

"Pft, with this bod? I'm ugly enough without a dress makin' it even worse."

"You ladies are aware we don't have the benefit of tuxedoes and cocktail dresses, yes?" Ringo asked with a curious frown.

"Ugh, Rin_go_!" Watkins whined, "stop ruining our illusions?"

"Alright," En said. "Plan right now: drop off our stuff at the hotel, wash up and change clothes, and go out gambling, looking scandalously gorgeous!"

"Want me to do your hair, miss En?" Ringo asked.

"Ooh, yes!" En said, "Got anything in mind?"

"Mmmno, not really, but I could give it a nice trim, model it a little for special occasions."

"Wait, wait," Watkins said. "You do _hair_?"

Ringo crossed his arms and looked at her defiantly. "Yes I do. Don't bother questioning my sexuality, I'm more than secure enough in my manhood."

"Okay. It's just… ummm… unusual?"

"Unusual is fun," En said, averting the attention from Ringo's hobby. "And yeah, Ringo, I'd love for you to make me pretty."

"That's gonna require more than just a perm," Melissa pointed out, earning her a playful kick to the shins from En.

"Come on, let's go."

They only had to walk a few hundred metres down the road. "There it is," Sunny called out from the front of the group. "Vault 21."

It actually was an honest-to-God Vault, repurposed as a hotel, apparently. Staying in a hotel underground didn't seem all that appealing (a few windows were always nice), but En had absolutely no reason to complain about anything right now. They checked into the hotel, run by a blonde girl who looked like a slightly plainer Watkins with a clearly Jewish nose, threw their bags into their rooms (room division was quickly determined, according to the standard principles), and freshened up. En didn't shower just yet – it'd be a silly thing to do before a haircut – but she already laid out the denim skirt and white sleeveless shirt she'd bought in Novac for the evening, and unpacked her bathroom stuff. Her soap, toothbrush and toothpaste were there and ready for service, but her eyeliner pencil had snapped in two, making a few ugly stripes on the inside of her sponge bag.

"Hey Leza?" she called out the door.

"Yah?"

"Got some eyeliner I can use?"

"Uh huh." Without knocking, Watkins pattered into the bathroom in her underwear, holding a small make-up bag, thrusting it at her. "You are _totally_ going to use foundation tonight?"

"Uh, I've never – "

"Shush, I'll teach you," Watkins cut her protest short. "Shower free?"

"I'll be out of here in a sec."

Watkins shrugged. "I can shower with you here, I mean, we're not strangers or anything?"

"Uh… no, no, I'll be out in a minute."

With a grin, Watkins leaned against the door jamb. "Never thought someone would ever refuse to stay in the bathroom when I shower?" Despite herself, En believed her. Seeing her in her underwear confirmed what En already knew: she had a body to die for – and to feel venomously jealous over. Stupid sexy Watkins.

"Something wrong?" she asked, actually picking up on En's brief mood dip.

"Uh? No, no, I'm good." There was a knock on the door. "Ah, that'll be Ringo."

Watkins craned her neck at the door. "The offer to stay in the bathroom when I shower doesn't extend to him, okay?"

En raised an eyebrow. "I thought you enjoyed male attention?"

"Um, only if I can do so without being a homewrecker?"

En found it hard to believe. Leza had doubtless wrecked more than one relationship in her life, but hey, at least she had the decency not to do it entirely on purpose. "Well, enjoy your shower." She switched places with Watkins.

"Oh I will. Since you'll be out there, I can have some fun with the showerhead?"

"Leza, _eww_, I still have to use that, come _on_!"

Watkins snickered. "I'm kidding, silly?" As she reached behind her to unhook her bra, she nudged the door with her toe, making it click closed in En's face. En sure hoped she'd been joking.

Ringo looked slightly peeved when she opened the door, standing there with a frown on his face and a sheet draped over his arm, his scissor bag on top of it. "Not exactly expedient in opening the door, are we?"

"Sorry, I had to shield a half-naked Watkins from your hungry man-eyes."

"Best not say the words 'half-naked' and 'Watkins' too loudly, with Meyers a few rooms down the hall," Ringo pointed out.

"Mm. Yeah."

"Now then, shall we?"

"Totally!"

En sat down on a chair in front of the mirror next to the bed, and Ringo came to stand behind her, draping one of the sheets he stole from the hotel room's reserve closet over her shoulders. "Now then, miss En, any preference?"

With a flourish of her hand, she simple said, "Make me pretty, Ringo!"

"Very well." As he began, snipping at her hair, he told her, "I'm not going to change too much, since it's already so short, but I think it'd be nice if the hair on top kind of," he made an inverted V with his hands, "comes together with a semblance of a faux-hawk."

"Whoa, hey, no Melissa cut, alright?"

Ringo laughed. "No, no, just making it a little more exciting."

"Hmph. I trust you."

"Don't worry, I'll keep it subtle." He snipped at her hair some more. "Sunny appreciates the conversation you had the other day, incidentally."

"Yeah," En said, "I think we both needed it." It was a bit of a lie, but what the Hell. The sound of water being turned on could be heard from the bathroom.

"I appreciate it as well," he said, parting the hair away from her scar to avoid hurting her. He did so regardless, but En kept quiet. The damn thing still hurt like Hell when someone touched it. Fuck that sonovabitch Benny. She had half a mind to get up right now, in the middle of her haircut, and march to the Tops to blow his god damn brains out.

"Sorry, was that painful?" Ringo asked, concerned.

"A bit yeah. Can't believe it's still so sensitive." She sighed. "And so ugly."

"I don't even notice it anymore, myself," Ringo said with a shrug. "And neither does Sunny."

En chuckled without much humour. "Nice of you to say."

"It's the truth."

"… maybe I didn't lo~ve you…"

Ringo and En fell silent, and in the mirror their gazes met, eyes wide in surprise at the singing voice flitting through the sound of running water. What the Hell?

"… quite as often as I shou~ld have…"

"Is that…?"

"Uh huh," En said. "It's her. Holy shit."

"… maybe I didn't trea~t you…"

"… I find that hard to believe," Ringo said, sounding skeptical. "Her voice is usually so…"

"… quite as good as I shou~ld have…"

"… Nasal, huh?" En said. "Yeah. But seems like when she sings…"

"… Damn."

"Everyone should hear this," En decided, jumping up from her chair, cut-off snippets of hair going airborne in all directions, and running to the other rooms. Sunny and Cheyenne were lying on the bed with their eyes closed – predictably – and Meyers was meticulously arranging his books on his night stand while Melissa sat on the bed, undoing her boot laces. In the doorway of both rooms En called, "Guys, come on, come on, something you gotta hear."

Meyers was intrigued instantly, Melissa followed, trudging behind her with her boots open, and Sunny moaning at the interruption of her rest but following anyway.

"Te~ll me…"

Somewhat annoyed, Melissa asked, "What are we listening t – " , but then she noticed the entire group, except for one person, was in the room, and one corner of her mouth pulled away in a grin. "No way."

"Uh huh," En said with a smile.

"Wait," Sunny said, still half-asleep. "We're all here except Watkins. And we all know she has a voice like a banshee when she talks, so…"

"Tell me that your sweet lo~ve hasn't die~d…"

"Nope," Ringo said. "The originator of the vocal work is indeed miss Watkins."

Meyers simply stood in the centre of the room, listening, in complete rapture.

"Te~ll me…"

Melissa shook her head. "I am having _the_ hardest time actually matching this voice to Watkins' ditzy face."

"She's not a ditz," Meyers said, a little too quickly.

"Well, regardless," Ringo opined, "I must admit I've – "

"Um, Ennie, could you hand me m -_ AAH!_"Watkins yelped, after suddenly appearing butt naked in the room, thankfully drying her face with her bath towel, which hung down her body and covered all her vital areas. "_What the Hell?!_" she shrieked, wide-eyed, clenching the towel against her body in a comically prude stance.

The others erupted in a flurry of apologies and attempts at explanation, becoming completely unintelligible. Then everyone fell silent and there was a moment of complete puzzlement, all eyes on the dripping wet, holding-the-towel Watkins. An incredibly awkward silence hung in the room.

"Um, okay," Watkins snapped, breaking the stalemate. "If you're waiting for me to drop this towel, you're gonna wait a long, long time!"

"Ladies, gentlemen," Ringo announced, as dignified as he could, "I suggest we vacate the premises."

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Get out, you filthy greedy _men_."

"So I can stay?" Melissa attempted with a grin, earning her a stare from Watkins that was icy cold and at the same time, hot as hellfire.

"Errr, I think it's best if you beat it too," En said, embarrassed. "Don't worry Leza, we didn't, uh… no critical part of you was ever exposed."

"And _that_," Melissa remarked, still grinning, "is too bad!"

"Uh, Leza," Meyers stammered, "I'd like to apologize from the bottom of my – "

"Apologize when I'm _wearing clothes?_" Watkins cut him off.

"Of course, of course." With that, Meyers hastily backed out the door, following the others, leaving only En.

After another moment of awkward silence, En asked, "So uh… what did you want me to hand to you?"

Leza only snatched her smaller hair towel from the rack and whacked it over En's head. "My clean underwear, stupid!" And after another towel whip in her direction, she added, "You'd be getting a much bigger beating if I'd come out without my towel?"

"Hey," En said, dodging the lash, "Not my fault you decided to pop out of the bathroom butt-naked like a jack-in-the-box." She tossed Watkins the panties and bra. "Besides, did you forget Ringo was here, cutting my hair?"

Watkins checked, her face went blank for a second, and then she sheepishly admitted. "Uh…yeah. I… totally did. Crap."

"Moron."

Before she got dressed, Watkins let her head stick out the door and asked, "Oh by the way… your hair gonna stay that crooked? Because it kinda looks like shit?"

Oh shit, she'd forgotten. Ringo had been in the middle of cutting her hair. It probably looked lopsided and ridiculous. "I'll uh… ask Ringo to finish the job in his room."

Watkins approved with an irritated "Hmph," before pulling the door closed again.

The rest of the hair-cutting was uneventful, this time accompanied by Sunny's comments, and when Ringo announced, "Done!", Sunny looked at En, her head cocked, and said, "It's nice but… kinda boyish."

"Even _more_?" En asked.

"Mmmyeah, but it suits you, kinda."

"Boyish suits me?" That was hardly a compliment.

"M-hm."

Ringo stayed quiet and handed her a mirror. It wasn't as masculine as she'd feared, her previous nondescript short hairstyle replaced by a trendy-looking faux-hawk. It was a bit boyish, sure, but it didn't take away the femininity of the rest of her appearance. "Ringo," she said, "job well done."

"I am pleased it merits your approval, miss En."

"Now I gotta hop in the shower and get ready or Watkins is going to drag me in there and throw me in the bath herself."

"Yes, I suppose if we're going for a night on the town," Ringo said, "we must look our finest."

Sunny grabbed her sponge bag and headed into the bathroom. "I _always_ look my best."

En quickly showered, jumped into her clothes, and modelled her hair. It was rather good-looking, she had to admit. The other hairstyle had been nice too, but maybe a bit too plain. Watkins taught her the mysteries of using foundation with much eagerness, and even though it felt like her face was caked with wall plaster, Leza assured her it made her look completely dead gorgeous. Though not as gorgeous as she found herself, probably, but whatever.

They'd agreed to meet in the lobby and head out together. Leza had put on her tight blue jeans and the chest-hugging black tank top, Meyers only had the shirt and jeans they'd bought at Mick & "Raiph's", Melissa was… well, Melissa, and Ringo and Sunny seemed to be taking their sweet time. En guessed she knew why: Sunny wanted to make a spectacular entrée in her new dress.

And yep, she'd been right.

"I'll be buggered," Melissa commented when Sunny came into the lobby, Ringo leading her by the hand. He was wearing a smart dark blue shirt and black jeans, and Sunny wore her new dress, looking spectacular in it, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places, showing off a modest amount of cleavage but leaving her legs covered. Her hair was worn up, doubtless after some caretaking by Ringo, and a single silver necklace completed her look.

"Oh em gee, Sunny!" Watkins blurted out. "That dress is like, sixty-two flavours of awesome?"

"How do I look, how do I look?" Sunny asked, beaming as she turned around and showed the dress off.

"Miss Sunny," Meyers said, crossing his arms in approval, "you look ravishing."

"Thanks so much for going dress shopping with me, sweetie," Sunny said to En.

"My pleasure, except, well, now we're all looking like vagabonds next to you."

"Well," Ringo said to that, "I certainly see no problem with having Sunny be the belle of the evening tonight."

"Neither do we," En said with a smile, "Now let's strut!"

"Say uh," Melissa asked, "what about Cheyenne? Assumin' you don't want any dog hair on your clobber?"

"The owner's taking care of her," Sunny said. "She loves dogs."

Watkins, already standing by the stairs that led up and out of the hotel, insisted, "Come _on_, guys, _Vegas_!"

It was going dark when they emerged from the Vault 21 hotel, and the crowd had gotten even thicker, filing the streets, soldiers, civilians, traders, bums, all sorts of people, and most were here simply to gamble. From a casino some ways away, a flare shot up, whistling through the twilight sky to pop in a bright red palm tree. The air was at a pleasant temperature, when the hot day cools into a refreshing semi-warm.

"Alright, Leza," En said, "Choose a casino!"

"Hold on, hold on," Sunny called out. "Wait a sec, we're going to get some churros!"

Oh yeah, a woman in an elegant evening dress stuffing her face with churros, that would be a sight. Meyers seemed to think differently. "Churros, don't mind if I join!"

En, Leza and Melissa watched them make their way to the churros-stand Sunny (of course, Sunny) had immediately pinpointed.

"There they are! Hey, kid!" a gruff male voice called out to En. As she turned, she saw a man coming through the crowd, wearing a trench-coat. He had short but chaotic dark brown hair and a short-cut, thick brown beard and moustache. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a rugged face that some would probably describe as handsome, a sharp nose and powerful-looking eyes.

"… the Hell?" Melissa muttered.

"Kid, what were you doing in the Lucky 38 this afternoon?" the man asked bluntly when he reached them. Nice manners this guy had, whoever the fuck he was.

"I wondered if I could see my house from up there," En said crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow. "Or maybe I wanted to look down from on high on the guy who came to ask me stuff that's none of his business."

He raised his hands. "Look, settle down. I'm asking because… well, are you by any chance a Courier by trade?"

"Uh… yeah, why?"

"Thought so."

"… yes?" En said, waiting for the rest of the explanation. But then she heard a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Look at that. If it isn't Watkins."

A woman wearing an old, tattered, thick woollen robe and an old dark green scarf over her hair had come to stand next to the trench-coated man, looking at Watkins with a disdainful sneer. She briefly interrupted her show of Watkins-disapproval to give En a brief smile and close-and-open her eyes at Melissa, greeting her in a way only people who'd shared their bed do.

"_Veronica_." Watkins said back, again with icicles hanging from her greeting.

"I forgot to say last time," Veronica told Watkins with clearly false friendliness, "I love what you've done with your hair, the one lock over your face. Clever. Can hardly notice your lazy eye anymore."

As En stood wondering what the Hell was going on, Melissa whispered in her ear, "This is gonna be good."

"At least I can show my hair, and I don't have to hide it with some ratty old scarf?" Watkins riposted.

"Oh no, you're all about showing," Veronica parried. "Go on, push those fake boobs out some more."

A triumphant smirk came over Watkins' face, and pointing unashamedly at her breasts, Watkins pointed out, "I'll have you know, _Veronica_, that these are _all natural_?" She thought she'd snatched away victory from under the other woman's nose, but En knew better. Veronica was too clever for that.

And indeed, she was quick to 'apologize', drawing back with her hands raised. "Oh. Sorry. You're right, I shouldn't insult the only thing about you worth mentioning."

Whoa, that one was a bit harsh. The barbs had been within limits until now, taking potshots at people's aspects, not their entire person. This one had been different – it wasn't a jovial stab, it was a downright insult, a dismissal of someone as an entire person. En didn't know what the history between these two was, but this was taking it too far. Melissa seemed to think so too, because En heard her quietly say, "Whoa there," in her ear.

Watkins' lower lip began to tremble and her eyes looked wounded. "Veroni_ca_? That's, like… a terrible thing to say?"

Veronica merely stood looking at her, not intent on taking back what she'd said, or even softening it a little bit.

A single tear streaked down Watkins' face, and En decided it had been enough. But before she could tell Veronica to take that rotten remark back, the man in the trenchcoat lost patience and barked, "What the Hell, you two? You wanna act bitchy to each other on your own god damn time?"

Veronica only crossed her arms, still glaring at Watkins, who was completely lost for words and looked genuinely hurt in the deepest of her soul. She was a ditz, but she'd clearly been wounded by what Veronica had said. She certainly didn't deserve to feel that way, and in En's opinion, Veronica did herself injustice by acting that way as well – she'd gotten to know her as a cheerful, caring person, not this snide, bitchy shrew she apparently turned into around Watkins.

"Veronica," En said harshly, "I don't know what it is between you guys, but Leza's part of my group, and I want you to respect that. That last remark was uncalled for, and coming from me, that's saying something."

Veronica's face became a lot less hard, and she said to En, "I respect that, En, and I apologize. To you, not to her."

That did nothing to help the situation or make Watkins feel less rotten, but thankfully Melissa defused the situation. "Hey Veronica? Let's go for a walk together, yeah? Spend some time?"

Veronica hesitated for a second, her eyes briefly shooting back to Watkins, but then she said, "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Come on, let's catch up, yeah?" With that, Melissa and Veronica walked off, though Veronica not without a last-second fiery glance at Watkins.

"… the fuck?" the bearded man muttered. "You people know each other?"

"Yeah," En said, "we ran into Veronica a while back. She and Watkins here apparently have a… history. Or something." Looking at Watkins, she added, "Leza should tell me about it some time."

Watkins said nothing, looking away.

"Anyway, whatever it is, it's not important right now," the man with the trench-coat decided. "I'd like to know what happened in there." He pointed at the Lucky 38, unlit but still sharply visible against the darkening sky.

"And _I'd _like to know why the birds always shit on my parents' roof right after I've cleaned it, but some things simply aren't mine to understand, you know?" En said back, crossing her arms again. Meanwhile, Watkins sullenly trudged away in the direction of the churro stand. Probably for the best.

The man rolled his eyes and let out a grunting sigh. "Look, this is important, so how about answering without bratty remarks, huh?"

"Tell me why it's so important to you then," En said, and when the man seemed apprehensive, she added, "Quid pro quo, Clarice."

After a few more seconds of hesitation, the man said, "Fine. We were carrying a package to New Vegas, but we got robbed on the way here. I was out finding water when the bastard hit the campsite, but…" The man's tough-guy face faltered ever so briefly when he said, "He shot my brother when he refused to give him the package. He was always so eager to be a damn hero."

"Who shot him?" En asked, already knowing the answer.

"Some asshole in a checkered suit."

Right. Seemed like she wasn't the only one who'd met Benny. He'd been honest with her, so might as well tell him the truth too. "Same thing happened to me. I was alone, and they took my package, then put me on my knees and," she turned the side of her head toward the man, "shot me in the head. So for what it's worth, whether or not your brother had handed his package over, they'd have shot him anyway."

"'They'? There was just one."

"There were three of them with me," En said, figuring it'd be wise to keep the identity of one of them secret. "Three big bad robbers against one teenage girl, and they still shot me."

The man put his hands in his sides and looked away, thinking. "This is all really strange. What was in your package?"

"What was in yours?"

He let out another grunting sigh. "A small platinum playing card."

"Huh. I had a small platinum poker chip."

"Platinum's valuable, I suppose it's worth killing over, but it doesn't add up in your case. Why shoot you over something they already had?"

A lot of people had asked that question already, and so far, only one explanation made sense. "I think because they didn't want to leave any witnesses. They didn't want anyone to talk, you know? Because I'm pretty sure there's more to that chip than just the platinum."

"Seems so, yeah. I heard the bastard say to my brother that 'the game was rigged from the start'. What do you suppose he meant by that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But I think it's pretty clear that it wasn't a simple robbery."

"No, looks like it wasn't." He looked away for a moment, his hands in his sides, thinking. "I think it's best if you let me handle things from here."

En blinked. "Ex_cuse_ me?"

"Look, no offense, but this isn't something a teenager should be dealing with. It's all way too dangerous."

"Tch. As if I came all this way to just chicken out and let someone else have all the fun." Fat chance, tough guy.

"Fun?" the man half-shouted incredulously. "This isn't about _fun_, kid! People have died because of this. It's fucking serious, alright?"

En rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, you're too young for this, so just let me handle it, alright?"

Who the Hell did this guy think he was? "Um, _no_? What's with the bossing-around?"

The man lost patience again, shouting at her, "You wanna play with the big boys, kid? Huh? That it? Well, if you get your ass blown off, I'm not responsible!"

"No one said you were," En parried.

A woman holding a bag of churros came to stand next to Patronizing Trench-Coat Man and said, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Ugh, shit, _her_. She might have forgotten their initial encounter, but En certainly hadn't. The red hair, the stupid taco-shaped straw cowboy hat, yeah, it was her alright. En's face had hurt for a day after the punches the drunken bitch had given her. She looked a bit less hammered now, but it was pretty clear she hadn't started the day on just coffee and a bagel.

"Does everyone fucking know each other around here?" Patronizing Trench Coat yelled in frustration. He seemed to have a bit of an anger problem. En felt a guilty sense of anticipation steal over her. The hot-tempered ones were always the most fun.

Straw Hat looked a bit taken aback by the harsh tone, and she looked at him and said, "Uh, geez, sorry, didn't mean to – "

"Whatever, Cass," he snapped. "Doesn't matter. Now kid, I'm telling you now, stay out of my way, got it?"

"I was staying out of everybody's way until you came to me, walking tough and telling me to mind my own business," En pointed out. "Which I was doing."

"Good. Keep it that way," he bit curtly. Then he stomped off towards the Lucky 38. Looks like he'd had an invite too. Whatever. Straw Hat gave her another where-do-I-know-this-kid-from look, and then went after him. Good doggie.

"Don't mind him," a calm, cold male voice said behind her as she watched him go. The man standing behind her was the sniper she'd seen in Novac, the one who'd blown that old biddy's head off. "He's under a lot of pressure. Not everyone can deal with it gracefully."

"Uh… seems so."

"Mm," the sniper simply said, and then also went in the direction of the Lucky 38.

What a weirdo.

The next voice was, thankfully, familiar. "Just because I love you so much, sweetie, I've brought you a bag."

"Huh?"

Sunny stood behind her, holding out a bag of churros. "A bag. I've brought you one."

"Oh, right, thanks." She took the paper bag and decided the whole other thing wasn't important right now. She'd seen how the people in the other group treated each other, and it had made her realize, she was damn lucky to be part of a group where people treated each other with friendliness and respect. Part of her had the urge to give Sunny a big-ass hug, but that'd be totally embarrassing, so she just said, "You're gonna make me fat with all your loving."

"You can use a curve or two," Sunny merely said, popping another one of the fried yellow sausages in her mouth. Ringo was contentedly munching his, and Meyers was crushing his bag into a ball, his mouth completely full. Leza walked next to them, still looking shaken.

"Hey, Leza," En said, hoping to cheer her up a bit. "I told you you got to choose the casino, didn't I?"

That seemed to get her out of her lethargy a bit. "Oh. Uh, yeah, right."

"So?"

"Well… Um, I figured, if that Benny guy runs the Tops casino, why don't we head over there? Like, get a feel for the place?"

"Excellent idea," Meyers immediately said. "You never know the hoops we'll have to jump through to even see the guy."

"You might want to stay off his radar though," Ringo remarked. "Gambling in his casino seems like the way to achieve the exact opposite of that."

"Bah," En said. "If he runs the casino, he probably won't be traipsing around on the gambling floor, he'll be up in his office. Besides, he thinks I'm dead, right?"

"Plus, you had your hair long then too, didn't you?" Sunny asked.

"M-hm."

"I don't know," Ringo said, "Melissa recognized you too."

"What's Melissa got to do with this?" Meyers asked with a frown, in the middle of stealing a churro from Sunny's bag.

"Uh, nothing, nothing."

Meyers didn't seem satisfied. "Mm. Anyway, I don't think there's much harm in going. You'll be in the middle of a packed casino floor. Hardly a very conspicuous place."

"Exactly," En said. "Let's wait for Melissa a sec and then we're going."

"She's uh, just over there," Watkins pointed out, drawing their attention to a drinks stand where Melissa and Veronica were sharing a beer and talking, hopefully not about Watkins.

"Hey Melissa?" En called out over the heads of the crowd in the street.

Melissa looked back and nudged her chin at En in a what?-gesture.

"We'll be at the Tops!"

Melissa answered with a raised thumb.

"Let's hit it," Sunny announced.

As they walked, shouldering through the crowd when it became thick here and there, En asked Watkins, "Hey, so what's the deal with you and Veronica?"

"Ugh," Watkins grunted in frustration. "I don't _know_. She just got on my case one day and never stopped?"

"What, just like that?"

"Ye-ah. I don't know if it's jealousy or just her being a bitch, but she hates my guts even though I never did anything wrong?"

"Come on, there's gotta be a reason."

"I'm telling you, I don't know? She's just… I don't know, she just hates me?"

"Weird."

"Yuh-huh."

"You okay, though?" She probably needed someone to show some concern.

"Sure, yeah. Was just a rotten remark, is all?"

"Yeah, it was."

"I mean, I've been called a lot of things and I usually just, you know, shrug and move on?" She waited for En to nod in acknowledgment and then went on, "But this, I dunno… was just telling me I was completely worthless. Not cool."

"Well, you're not. You know that, right?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yep, don't worry, I'm alright?"

"You better be, because I need you at your best tonight."

Leza's smile widened into a grin. "Oh don't worry, I'm all set for a night of sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll?"

"Primarily sex for you, probably," En said, hoping she'd restrain herself somewhat.

It was idle hope. "Oh yeah."

"Let me know in advance so I can go bunk with Melissa and Meyers."

"Sure that's a good idea?" Leza asked mischievously. "Who knows what those two are up to in that room…"

"Ugh, I don't even wanna think about that."

Even Ringo seemed to be excited at the prospect of a night of gambling, much as he tried to hide it. "There it is, ladies and gentlemen, the Tops."

There were too muscled bouncers at the door, armed with submachine guns, and with a radio at their belt to summon reinforcements if it proved necessary, their wide frames nearly bursting the white suits they wore. Their fedoras looked like they were too small for their heads. "Welcome to the Tops casino," the one on the right said. "Not carrying any weapons?"

"Nope," En said, holding out her hands to show she wasn't hiding anything.

"Just my charms," Melissa said, winking at the bouncer.

That did the trick, "Alright, go on in. Please enjoy yourselves."

Another "Welcome to the Tops casino," greeted them when they came into the lobby. "My name's Patrick Swank, you can exchange your caps for chips right here, and if there's any questions, anything you need, don't hesitate to call on me." Swank, En had heard that name before… Now where was it? Hm, it'd dawn on her soon enough. She handed him a hundred and twenty caps, and he exchanged them for casino chips. "If you're unfamiliar with casino rules, I'm at your disposal to answer all your questions."

"Uh… we've never been to a casino before," En said. "What are the rules?"

The handsome man at the reception desk gave her a wide, confident smile and said, "We want you to enjoy yourselves, miss. That means no weapons, no disruptive behaviour, and no refunds. And remember, even though we appreciate your patronage immensely, for your safety, you should always follow the guidelines of our casino staff."

"So just, like, act normal and things will be alright?" Watkins asked.

"That's exactly it, miss. You're our guests, and you'll receive all the benefits of our hospitality if you behave as such."

"We'll be good," Sunny said.

"I don't doubt it for a minute, ma'am," Swank assured, the smile on his face widening even more. "And I must say, that is a fabulous dress."

Sunny beamed. "I know, right?"

He gave them the same line the bouncers had to welcome them in. "Please enjoy yourselves."

They made to go in, but Meyers stayed where he was. "I've got one question, if I may?"

"Of course, sir. How can I help?"

His face critical, Meyers asked gravely, "What kind of scotch do you serve?"

Swank gave a clap of his hands. "Sir, I am glad you asked! We don't serve third-rate rotgut at the Tops, no siree Bob! We have the traditional cheaper blended whiskeys, which I'm sure are beneath the demands of an appreciator such as yourself, and also a selection of single malts that will make your taste buds feel like they're being caressed by an angel." He proceeded to name several whiskeys, Meyers nodding in approval at every one.

"I've heard enough," Meyer said. "Where's the bar?"

"Right through these doors, sir."

The Tops was laid out in an L-form. On the left side of the L were roulette tables, on the other side stood card tables. There were several bars scattered around the place, some set against the wall, others forming islands between the tables. Chandeliers with fake diamonds hanging from them lit the casino up, and the entire floor was decorated with green plants, fake gold railings, and wooden finishes. It was tacky beyond belief, but then again, that was the way casinos were supposed to look! There were players at every table, and plenty more people spectating or just strolling around, enjoying a drink or a chat or both. The clothes they wore ranged from pragmatic to opulent and everything in between. Every now and then, between the noise of the crowd and the games, a triumphant cry or a desperate groan could be heard.

En felt Watkins' nails dig into her shoulder, "Oooh, ooh, what are we doing first?"

"Well, I was really lucky at blackjack last time, so maybe we could do that?"

A shove in her lower back from Watkins. "Okay, let's go, let's _go_!"

"Do you know how to play?"

Watkins grinned sheepishly, "Sorta."

"Good enough." They were here to have fun, after all, and En didn't think it mattered to Watkins if she won or lost. "Let's go."

"I think I shall try my hand at a game of caravan," Ringo announced.

"Sure, hun?" Sunny asked with a face full of trepidation. "You and caravan aren't exactly the best of – "

"My luck has to change some day," Ringo simply said.

"Alright, hun, you know best."

"I'll be accompanying you ladies, if you don't mind?" Meyers said. Of course he'd be accompanying them. Couldn't stray too far from Watkins, the horny old devil.

"There's two seats, there's two seats," Watkins hissed, completely excited, rushing through the crowd to claim the rare free seats at the blackjack table, and almost pouncing on one of the stools. "I've got them, Ennie, come sit next to me!"

En was in a bit less of a hurry, and the seat was still perfectly available when she got there.

"Ladies, can I fetch you something to drink?" Meyers offered.

"Oh yah," En said, in the most posh accent she could muster. "Cola please, James."

"Beer beer beer," Watkins chirped, bouncing in her seat and immediately attracting the attention of every man at the table with her bouncy bits, and still not getting over the fact that she could actually drink _beer_ now.

"Three beers then," Meyer said with a grin and wandered off to the nearest bar.

"Two new lady players," the dealer announced in a bored tone. "Soft 17 rules in play, resplit to four, no double after resplit. Faites vos jeux."

"Uh, what does 'fat for joe' mean?" Watkins whispered to En.

"It means you have to bet now." Oh dear, she was going to go down so hard. "Not too much on your first try." En split her off twenty chips to begin with. She'd at least be able to last a few games with that if she wasn't stupid. Ugh, not _too_ stupid at least.

Watkins bet ten on herself. Right, she'd last two games then. After some consideration, En bet ten chips on herself as well. Why the Hell not.

After everyone had bet (surprisingly, no one had bet on either En nor Watkins), the dealer dealt two cards each. En got a face and a two to start, but Watkins immediately flipped her two cards over and announced, "Blackjack!"

Holy shit, she was right. The jack and the ace were actually there, grinning at everyone on the table.

"Natural twenty-one," the dealer announced. "Chair five."

"Yayyyy!"

Watkins' ten chips doubled, En's went down the shitter.

She wasn't as lucky in the next game though, unfortunately for her and the people who superstitiously bet chips on her, thinking she was a good luck charm, she bombed the next game, busting at twenty-five. En, on the other hand, took home the prize, standing at 19 when everyone else either went bust or stood to early, putting her back at twenty chips.

"Sorry about that one," she taunted Watkins, who shrugged and replied with a chipper, "I'm having fun, that's what matters."

She couldn't be more right.

A few more chips went in En's box this time, and Meyers was just in time to see it happen. "Bein' a little good luck fairy again, little lady."

"I fully intend to, yes," En said, amused.

More cards were dealt, En getting a natural 18 and standing. Watkins foolishly stood at 15 (overcompensating for the overconfidence in the previous game, most likely), and everyone else went bust. Cha-ching!

One other gambler tentatively slid five chips over to En's box.

"Little lady, you're going to be the terror of the gambling table if you keep this up," Meyers remarked behind her, sipping his scotch.

Unfortunately, she went bust on 22 right after, the guy who'd placed the chips in her box winning the hand. "You're jinxing it, old geezer," she said with a grin.

"My apologies, I'll keep the jinxing to a minimum."

As the dealer dealt two more cards, En could hear a triumphant cry from Sunny at the roulette tables, where she and Ringo had apparently moved on to after – most likely – another disastrous caravan game from Ringo.

"Looks like Sunny's totally cleaning up?" Watkins said to En, asking for a hit.

They played a few more games, Watkins lasting surprisingly long. It took seven more games before she was bankrupt, so she'd made the twenty chips last a long time. En came out ahead, her luck erratic but still shoring her up at a respectable thirty.

"Whew, that was fun," Watkins said. "Let's go do something else?"

"Sure. Play some roulette with Sunny and Ringo?"

"Awesome."

They said goodbye to the dealer, who didn't care much, and walked to the roulette-side of the casino. Roulette took absolutely no skill whatsoever, but En had been told the feeling of anticipation as the little ball ticked around in the spinning wheel was incomparable.

"Hey sweetie, look", Sunny said proudly, holding up a blue-rimmed chip. "How's that for doubling our money?"

Damn, she'd turned the twenty chips she'd started with into over a fifty. Go Sunny. "Whoo, Sunny!" she cheered. "It's the dress, brings you luck!"

"Maybe, maybe," Sunny said mysteriously.

En and Leza sat down at the table, Sunny treasuring her blue-rimmed chip as Ringo bet on black and lost. With a sigh, he remarked, "Well, there goes my last five." He looked utterly pitiable as the croupier's rake slid his chips off the board. En noticed this roulette wheel had numbers up to 42. Weren't they supposed to go just up to 36? Scumbag casino.

"Two new lady players," the croupier announced, putting his rake away. He made to spin the roulette wheel, but as he did so, Swank approached him and whispered something in his ear. En saw the croupier's eyes quickly brush over her, and then he nodded. Swank left the table, brushing past her, and he quietly said, "Thirty-eight's lucky this spin."

En was briefly caught unaware. But then she decided to risk it. "Uh… Sunny?"

"Mm?"

"Give me that blue chip, please?"

"Why, you want to hold it too?" Sunny said with a grin. The croupier seemed to be dragging his heels, wiping the roulette wheel with a cloth even though it was squeaky-clean already.

"No. Can I have it, please? Trust me?"

Gingerly, Sunny laid the chip in En's hand. Her face looked anything but trusting.

The croupier noticed she held the blue chip and gave the wheel a spin. "Faites vos jeux."

After a brief moment of doubt – Sunny would kill her if this went wrong – she slapped the chip down on the number 38.

"En, what the _Hell are you doing_?" Sunny breathed. "That's _my_ – " her hand shot out to reclaim the chip, but En grabbed her wrist. "Trust me, Sunny. Please?" Watkins, Ringo and Meyers were struck dumb.

"Rien ne va plus, miss," the croupier warned Sunny with a frown. She was silent, mortified as the ball bounced around in the spinning roulette wheel for a few seconds that seemed like minutes.

Shit, shit, this had better been a good decision. For all she knew, that Swank guy was just messing with her. The ball ticked around as the wheel slowed.

Come on, baby, come on!

"Thirty-eight!"

YESSSSSS!

Sunny's face was completely flabbergasted. "Whuh… what the…"

"Holy shit, _Ennie_!"

"Congratulations, miss," the croupier said, a hint of a knowing smile on his face. "Duoquadragintuple payout."

En whooped. "_How_ much?"

"Two thousand one hundred."

"This is… _uncanny_," Ringo breathed.

"Uncanny or not," Meyers said to that, "It's two thousand gift horses."

The croupier slid two gold-rimmed chips and one bronze-rimmed one to En. Swank reappeared next to her and whispered in her ear. "With compliments from Mr. House. For expenses."

At that moment Melissa walked in, thankfully alone, pinpointing them at their table and strolling lazily towards them.

"Oh my God, Melissa," Watkins hollered at her. "Ennie just, like, won two thousand caps!"

"Pull the other one."

"It's true," Ringo said. "Hard to believe as it may be."

"Uh, guys?" En said. "Let's discuss this somewhere else." It would be a very bad idea indeed to tell them what had really happened at the very same table where people had lost chips for not betting on 38.

"Somewhere else is the bar," Melissa decided. "I'm thirsty."

The bar it was. They exchanged the blue-rimmed chip for drinks and a few white chips in change and took stools. En made sure the serving girl was out of earshot, and then said, "the two thousand was a gift from Mr. House, for expenses. He wants his chip back pretty desperately, I guess."

Meyers chuckled. "I thought that Swank guy was acting weird around you."

"M-hm. So sorry, guys, I'm not supernaturally lucky."

Melissa shrugged. "Cash is cash, no matter where it's from. We can use this to buy some good gear, yeah?"

"Uh huh, ammo too."

"The hour groweth late," Ringo said. He was right, the casino was only half as crowded as before, and it was past midnight already. "I suggest we turn in?"

"Sure, yeah," En agreed. "It's been fun, but I don't think it'd be much appreciated if we stay here and try to beat even more money out of this casino's pockets."

They finished their drinks and headed back to the Vault 21 hotel. As they walked, En spotted Trenchcoat and Straw Hat in a dark corner, kissing passionately.

Seeing him gave En a terrible feeling. One she couldn't describe. It almost made her feel somehow... _unreal_.


	39. Kiss of Betrayal

.

**THIRTY-NINE**

**Vault 21 hotel**

**July 11****th**

**09:26**

"Good morning, little rich lady," Meyers said as he sat down opposite En in the refectory (because it really couldn't be called a dining room) of the Vault 21 hotel. En was nursing a coffee (she needed one to shake off the headache and drowsiness of the short night) and wondering if she was going to have a regular sandwich or a bagel. The steel walls and cold, sterile furniture of the refectory seemed to stifle any thoughts about food or other pleasantness.

"Hey M… err, Cliff. Sleep well?"

"Not half bad, just a little short." His eyes fell on En's cup. "A good cup of coffee will wake me right up. No one else moseyed down yet?"

"Nope. Sunny's gonna be last though, wanna bet?

Meyer chuckled. "Little lady, I don't like those odds. Get you anything?"

"Uh… yeah, a roast-brahmin sandwich, please."

"Excellent choice, madam," Meyer said in a posh British accent and went to the counter. Melissa came down the stairs next, not unaccompanied. She'd said she'd be in later and asked if it was okay if En spotted her a few caps for an extra room for the night. En was all for giving people privacy when they did the nasty, so no problem. She gave Veronica a goodbye kiss on the mouth and watched her as she left.

"You two getting serious huh?" En asked.

"Serious?" Melissa asked with a grin. "Nah, jillaroo, I don't do serious. Not my style, and not hers either. But I gotta admit, she's pretty amazin'."

"So you _are_ getting serious?"

Melissa's face told En that she didn't understand at all. "No, not serious, I told ya. It's just for fun, no strings attached. Trust me, her heart's with someone else, an' I'm perfectly fine with it."

"Okay, I guess." How someone could be with someone else and accept their heart lay with another person was beyond En's capacity to understand.

Meyers sat back down with the necessary breakfast paraphernalia, and said, "Little lady, you'll see in your life that things are sometimes beyond your understandin', but if those people say that's what's goin' on, you just gotta accept it."

"Tch," En said, jokingly. "You condescending old man."

"That I'm condescendin'," Meyer said calmly, reaching over the table for a butter knife, "doesn't make me any less right."

Watkins came down next, her hair not exactly perfectly groomed, more a fingertip-job, but the lock was still firmly over her eye. After hearing her exchange with Veronica, En figured she realized why.

"Even when she's just out of bed, she looks ravishing," Meyers remarked, and there was a wistfulness in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Marry 'er then, yeah?" Melissa said, buttering one of the sandwiches Meyers had brought back for himself.

"As if she'd marry an old coot like me," he quickly got in before Watkins came within hearing distance. "Morning, Leza."

"Mor_ning_."

"Gonna take a shower after breakfast?" Melissa couldn't resist asking.

"Yeah I am," Watkins said, taking Meyers' last sandwich. "Locking the door this time though?"

Melissa only let out a raucous little laugh before biting into her sandwich.

"So what happens today?" Meyers asked. "Visiting the Tops in a more business-oriented fashion?"

It was time, she knew it was. She took a breath and said, "Yeah. I guess now's as good a time as any."

"Do you like, have a plan or an idea or something?"

"Not really," she had to admit.

"That Swank guy seems like a decent sort," Meyers said, looking around the table and wondering where his sandwiches had gone. "Seemed rather taken with you too."

"Not sure about that, I'm thinking that was just, you know, commerce, but he did give me that payout from Mr. House. So that means House probably still has more influence over him than Benny does."

"Mm," Meyers said. "I was thinkin' the same thing. And if you were to find some way to make it clear that Benny's been a bad boy, I'm thinkin' Swank could help you get access to your friend."

"Yeah, it's definitely a – "

"There's also a service entrance at the back of the casino," Melissa said casually, dusting off her sandwich. "Leads to the staff area and to the chairmen's office, probably. Single guard at the door, runt of the litter so they have him guardin' the back like a loser. Lock's a simple cylinder and the guard doesn't carry a radio." Everything fell silent, and Melissa looked up from her sandwich. "What?"

"We're uh, amazed at your thoroughness," En simply said.

"Oh." Melissa shrugged and picked up En's coffee cup. "I'm a scout, right? Least I was, in a previous life. So I've been scoutin'."

"Impressive," Meyers remarked. "But what's even more impressive is my sandwiches disappearing."

"Hey," Watkins said playfully, "you snooze, you lose?"

Meyers harrumphed and rose to get more sandwiches.

"Old geezer better take enough," Melissa said quietly. "I'm still hungry an' I'm not done stealin' yet."

Sunny and Ringo took a short while to come down, most likely due to Ringo's battle with a bed-clinging Sunny, and after breakfast and a quick shower, it was time to do what they'd come for. That Swank character would be the key, of that En was certain. He was still following Mr. House' orders, so if she gave the whole story a little betrayal-angle, he'd be far more inclined to cooperate. After all, all she wanted to do was see him, how hard could that be?

"Still with us, sweetie?" Sunny asked, breaking her thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, was just thinking about how to go about it."

"We'll see what that Swank-guy says," Meyers said. "If he's unforthcomin', we'll try that service entrance scheme."

"Sounds about right," Melissa agreed. "No sense breakin' an' enterin' if we can just get in through old-fashioned gabbin'."

They emerged from the underground hotel into a bright early noon sun, and on streets that were mostly empty. There was still a lot of litter from the evening before, but most of the people were gone. Some still lay where they had fallen over, sleeping off the drunken coma, most of them with empty bottles still between their fingers. Two NCR troopers were still on their feet, swaying from side to side, sharing a bottle. One of them spontaneously broke into song, singing about a goblin and his little feet. This seemed to be the time between rushes, those few hours that everything came to a standstill and recovered for the next packed evening. En imagined that in a few hours, the first of the party animals would emerge from his hidey-hole, unaware that by doing so, he'd silently sound the charge, and give the signal for the other fun-lovers to leave their grottoes and join the festivities.

But partying wasn't on En's mind today. The casino they were headed to wasn't a place of fun and games and drink, not tonight.

"Let's go spend our caps first through, maybe," Sunny suggested. That might actually be a good idea. They were short on supplies and especially ammunition. First a trip to the Gun Runners was in order, and then they had to swing by a few shops, get some food and drink, and preferably, get some laundry done. En made sure to buy some ammo for the heavy rifle she'd been given, but she also stocked some bullets for her pistol, because she had a feeling she might need it tonight. The rest bought various supplies, but just as they were about to leave, En's eye fell on a nice-looking scope. She bought it and spent an hour welding it to the rifle, getting it just right, while the others sat on the benches and chatted. It was evening by the time they returned to the Vault 21. En took a quick shower and changed into the clothes she'd bought in Novac, the short denim skirt and the white sleeveless T-shirt. She'd bought some nice stylish soft-leather boots to go with the ensemble (no more worn combat boots!), and she put on some eyeliner so she'd look like she came to the casino for pleasure. The rifle would have to be left behind – no use for long range weaponry in the city – but she could bring her pistol. After all, the Wastes were a dangerous place, and even during nights on the town, nobody gave two shits about someone carrying a weapon. Everyone did it, really.

She returned to the lobby and saw the others waiting for her.

"Are you ready for this, miss En?" Ringo asked gravely.

It was a good question. _Was_ she ready? She supposed she'd have to be, but she didn't feel prepared – facing him wouldn't be the problem, but what would she do if the answers to her questions didn't suffice? Or if he refused to answer them at all? Or even if he did answer to her satisfaction but simply his face and the memories associated with it became too much? She wasn't a cold-blooded killer, but it would be difficult not to get even for the pain she'd endured because of him. But she wouldn't know what would happen until the moment was there, so she took a breath and said, "Ready as I'll ever be."

Ringo nodded. "Let's hit it."

Everyone was silent during the walk, probably thinking their own thoughts and minding their own business. So much the better.

The crowd was thickening already, and it seemed the evening had rightly and truly begun.

"So here we are," Sunny said as they stood at the front door, looking up at the Tops logo above it. "

"Here we are indeed," Meyers echoed. "We're right behind you, little lady."

En nodded and after a brief hesitation, walked in through the door.

"Well, if it isn't last night's lucky winners!" Swank called out when he saw them. "Hope you're not counting on taking home so much cash twice in a row?"

Yeah, that was unmistakably a little heads-up not to expect another big handout. Not to worry, it wasn't what they were here for. "No, no, we're just here for a drink and a chat."

He spread his hands. "Always welcome, the Tops is here for your pleasure. If you'd like, you can always take in a show upstairs. Tommy Torini and his cats are dancing, and I assure you, it's a sight worth seeing!"

En blinked. "Wait, this guy has dancing cats?"

Swank blinked, not expecting the question. "Uh… no, miss, they're people. His cats."

"Oh. Never heard the word before."

He slipped back into his confident greeter-role, and smiled broadly. "It's what we call entertainers here in Vegas, and I assure you, Tommy Torini is one cool cat!"

"Um, Ennie?" Watkins asked tentatively behind her. "I know we're not here for entertainment, but um," she wrung her hands. "I've never seen a show, and, well, you know?"

En couldn't repress a grin, even as she rolled her eyes. "It's okay, Leza, I have a feeling I'm not going to um… meet that guy unless I'm alone."

"Oh, you're meeting someone?" Swank asked. "Anything I can do to help expedite the process?"

'Yes actually," En said. Her heart picked up speed. "I need to talk to one of the Chairmen."

His smile widened, "Talk away."

"No, I mean… someone specific."

"Oh, I see." He paused and took a moment to think, doubtless remembering the deposit Mr. House had given to her via his casino. The trademark commercial smile went off his face, and he his look changed from cheerful greeter to serious businessman. "Let's discuss this in private." His eyes briefly passed by En's friends, and he said, "Please, have a drink on the house, make yourselves comfortable, your friend will be back shortly."

"You sure, sweetie?" Sunny asked.

"M-hm, it'll be alright."

"Please, follow me."

Swank led her through a corridor and to his office. One of the bouncers followed, and took up post next to the door as Swank opened it. "Can I ask you to leave your weapon with Jimmy for this conversation?"

Jimmy was apparently the broad-chested guard's name. When En hesitated, Swank opened his jacket and showed he was unarmed as well. "Trust me," he said, "I wouldn't try anything funny with someone who's on Mr. House' white list."

Made sense. She unbuckled her belt and handed it to the bouncer, who took it without a word. Swank motioned her to come in and sit down. He did the same, leaning back on his high-necked leather chair and intertwining his fingers. "So, he asked, who is it you wanted to see?"

To her surprise, it took her some effort to pronounce the name. "Benny." Her headache throbbed harder.

Swank whistled between his teeth. "Benny's a bit fickle when it comes to receiving guests. Especially lately, he's been rather on edge, not sure why."

Good to hear. "I need to see him though."

His eyes narrowed. "Did Mr. House send you?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of? Miss, I need to know the reason, and more than that, Benny does too, he doesn't see visitors as it is, so he definitely won't want to receive someone who doesn't have a good reason."

This man looked reasonable, even if he was Benny's associate, and she had a feeling he could be trusted, or that he'd at least listen to her story without dismissing it out of hand. So she decided to risk it. She took a breath and said, "I want to ask him about a murder he's committed."

Swank nearly fell out of his chair. "A _murder_? _Benny_? Benny's not the murdering type, believe me."

"He may not be the type," En doubted that strongly, he most certainly _was_ the type, "but he committed a murder nonetheless."

Swank was still perplexed, floundering for words. For what it was worth, it was good that he was surprised – that meant he was appalled at the concept of one of his associates murdering people, and she could use that to her advantage. "I don't… I'm not sure… How do you…" he eventually settled on a question. "Whose murder?"

En turned her head so he looked straight at the scar. "Mine."

If Swank had been lost for words before, this one made him go completely dumbstruck.

En didn't say anything, and just waited for him to regain his composure.

"Well…" he said at length, "Then at least I won't have to wonder if maybe you hadn't been given the wrong information." It was an encouraging response. "So all that remains to be seen is, are you telling the truth?"

It was a legitimate question.

"I am, but I'm guessing you won't just believe me because I say so."

"No. I've known Benny for years, and I know he's been involved in some shady things, but murder, that's a grave accusation. I can't believe you, not without proof."

She'd been prepared for that. "Can you ask your bouncer to bring in the pouch attached to my gunbelt? It clicks off if you press the red lip."

Swank relayed the instruction to his bouncer at the door, and true enough, the man brought in the pouch, set it on the desk, and left again, the gun belt still in his hands, and kept far enough away from her so she couldn't make a grab for it. En opened the pouch and let its contents spill on the table.

"This is the bullet casing," she said, picking up one of the brass tubes. "New and fresh out of the box, not re-loaded. You can tell because there's no vise marks on it."

"M-hm, and?"

"It's of the Federal brand. New bullets are very hard to come by. And I don't doubt for a second that you know Benny has some, and that they're Federals."

"True, but that's not exactly conclusive."

"Yet." She picked up a small lead nugget. "This bullet was extracted from my head." It hurt her to hold the cold little thing that had smashed into her skull and given her headaches and seizures for the rest of her life. "I think it's pretty clear that it's the same calibre as the casing, even though it's warped and bent."

Swank leaned forward, peering at the two pieces of metal. "It's… possible, yes. Still not proof."

The next item she selected was a cigarette butt. "Know these?"

"I do," he said. "They're Distinctive brand, aren't they?" He asked the question without even having seen the logo. Good, he already expected her to have the right ones.

"Exactly. Benny's brand." She held up the cigarette butt to his eyes. "This was the one he flicked away before shooting me."

He was not yet convinced.

"It could all be a big coincidence. Or an elaborate set-up. You've shown me casings and a cigarette butt, and all those things _might_ have come from Benny, but they might not. Even then, all this _would_ prove is that he's smoked a cigarette and fired a gun."

"I've got one last thing," she said, shaking the pouch again and making a small silvery object fall out. She slid it toward him across the table. "Recognize this?"

This did make him gasp for breath. "I… do."

"This isn't something that just 'could be' Benny's, is it?"

He took the lighter between two fingers and turned it over in front of his eyes, to make sure it wasn't fake. "No, that's… his lighter alright."

"I already tracked down two of his accomplices, one of them gave me that lighter before he died. He stole it because Benny weaselled out of paying them."

Swank's mind seemed to be working overtime, trying to fit it all in. "Yeah he… said he'd been dealing with finks not wanting to cough up their back pay, so they stole his lighter. But… something was wrong with that story."

"A lot was wrong with it," En amplified.

"I mean, why would you steal someone's lighter if you were the one who had to pay? Ever since then, he'd been acting really strange, asking if anyone's come to see him and right after, saying he didn't want to see anybody."

"Benny's got enough street smarts not to be edgy about some pay-dodgers, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but…" he hesitated, staring at the evidence on the desk before him. "Still. It's Benny, and if I'm not absolutely sure he's guilty, I'm still giving him the benefit of the doubt."

His resolve was weakening. Now was her chance. "I've got one more thing."

"I hope so, to be honest, because whether he did it or not, I want certainty."

She couldn't blame him. "Remember I told you I'd tracked down two accomplices?"

It had been a lot for the man to take in, so she couldn't blame him for not picking up on the hidden details. "Yes… yes you did."

"One of them gave me the lighter before he died."

"… Yes?"

It was time to bring out the last of her evidence. It would all depend on this. She leaned forward and hoped she was doing the right thing. "I have a witness."

"Who?"

"One of the killers. She travels with me now. Rather butch-looking chick with a leather vest and a double-mohawk haircut." Sorry, Melissa…

Swank spoke into the intercom again, and a few moments later, another bouncer showed Melissa in. "Yeah, whatcha need?"

"Melissa…" En said quietly. "Tell him everything about the… the night I was shot."

Meliss's face looked wounded as she gave En a surprised look.

"Please, Melissa. I'm sorry, but just… tell him the truth, okay?"

Melissa shook her head, angry. "Fine. I was part of your shithead friend Benny's group. We jumped her during the night, knocked her on the head and took her package, and tied her up. Benny insisted on gettin' rid of the witnesses, so he lit a durry and shot this kid in the face. The end."

Swank hid his face in his hands. "God dammit Benny."

"Can I go now?" Melissa asked impatiently.

"Yes, miss," Swank said. "Thank you for the… testimony."

Melissa only uttered a short, "Yeah," then stomped out. God dammit, another fire En would have to put out afterwards.

"I assume you'll want to get even with Benny now?" Swank asked hoarsely.

"No," En said, hoping it was the truth. "I just want to know why. Why I had to be put on my knees and shot over a stupid package."

Swank said nothing, then took a breath and reached for his intercom. Before pressing the button, he said, "All I can do is get Benny to come down the casino floor so you can talk to him. Whatever else you decide to do is your business, that alright?"

"I'd be happy just being able to ask him my questions." But not on the casino floor. Oh, no, she had a much better idea, much as she found it reprehensive.

"Very well," Swank said, clearly noticing in her eyes that she was hatching plans, but he didn't seem to care. He pressed the intercom, and reverting flawlessly to his cheery salesman voice, said, "Heyo Benny, Swank here."

The voice on the other end was distorted by the intercom, and by irritation, but she recognized it instantly. It was that piece of shit Benny. Her fists clenched when she heard it. "What is it Swank? This important?"

"Yeah, kinda. Can you just come on down to the casino floor?"

"For _what,_ Swank?"

"Trust me, you gotta see this."

A brief silence, then an annoyed grunt. "Fine, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"He'll see you in the lounge at the back of the blackjack section. I've done what I can," Swank merely said, leaning back in his chair. "The rest is entirely up to you."

"Thank you," En said with a nod, and rose, reclaiming her gun from the bouncer.

Her heart beating hard in her chest, she went back to the casino floor, making sure her friends didn't see her – they didn't have to know what she was planning. If she'd even be able to pull it off. She was scared, elated, and burning up with hate all at the same time.

She inconspicuously weaved through the crowd, far enough away from her friends at the bar, and made her way to the lounge area, which consisted of a few sofas and some tables. A bouncer stood at the opening in the rope enclosure. "Lounge is for special guests only, miss."

"I'm here to see Benny, at Swank's invitation?"

The bouncer nodded. "Swank told me about you, have a seat, miss."

"Thanks."

She sat down, closed her eyes and listened to her hammering heart. In a few moments she'd come face-to-face with Benny, the man who'd shot her. She knew what to say and how to approach him, but if he'd fall for it was a big question mark. And it was what all the rest depended on.

"I know you, kiddo." The voice again. Like on that night on graveyard hill, she heard it without seeing its owner. But this time she wasn't bound and blinded, she could simply open her eyes.

He was wearing the same checkered suit he'd worn on that night. His hair was the same. Everything was the same, even the dim lights in the lounge were similar to the battery-powered light she'd seen him in for the first time. A few metres further, people were playing blackjack and drinking and having fun, but that might have well have been miles and miles away. She'd finally found him. Benny.

He sat down opposite her, two broad-chested bouncers standing behind his sofa. "Your hair's different, and your face was less mangled back then, but I never forget a face. Shoulda figured this was gonna happen sooner or later."

En's mouth was completely dry and her heard pounded even harder. "Found you at last."

"So you did, kiddo," Benny said, picking at his nails, trying to look disinterested. "So, what do you want? Money? Revenge? An _apology_? Cause you ain't gettin' any of those."

It was time to let go of her fear and start her act. She was terrified but he couldn't see, she had to keep it hidden and play her part right. This couldn't fail or she'd never get the answers she wanted. If at any moment during the conversation, he decided to get up and leave, that would be the end of it. Swank wouldn't risk his neck twice, and even then, Benny's bouncers would probably gun her down right there and come up with some bullshit excuse. No, this was life or death and it _had _to work. She swallowed and the said the phrase she'd been rehearsing in her head the whole day long.

"I just wanted to see you."

"_What_?" Benny asked, not understanding. "What are you talkin' about, kiddo? What's stoppin' me from puttin' some more bullets in your face?"

"Nothing," En said, her heart ramming in her chest so hard it almost hurt. Her head pounded in pain. "But all I'm asking is that you listen to me."

Benny leaned back and held up two fingers. "Two minutes, kiddo."

_Don't falter_, she told herself. _Now you have to stay strong and keep it up._ "I don't know how to explain this, but..." she said, looking at the ground and trying to appear as naïve and innocent as possible. "... ever since that night, I just... I can't stop thinking about you."

"Yeah, I bet you couldn't. Like I said, if you want revenge – "

"No, not like that," she interrupted him. "You're… you were on my mind all the time. I know this sounds crazy but… I don't want revenge or money, I just… wanted to be near you."

"What?" he blurted out. "Make some sense, kiddo."

"I can't really explain it, but… I feel really drawn to you. The way you stood over me, the way you conquered me, it was so…" she bit her lower lip and let her eyes lock with his. "… Erotic." She felt as if a drum of stinking, cadaverous oil had been poured out over her, but she only showed the fake attraction.

Benny simply sat looking at her, his face suspicious, trying to gauge her.

It was now or never. "I came all this way for one thing." She slowly leaned forward, her stomach feeling nauseous, and said in his ear so his bouncers couldn't hear, "I want you… to conquer the rest of me too."

She actually heard Benny swallow. Her skin crawled and there was an icy sensation at the base of her spine.

"I've… never been conquered by a man before," she half-whispered. "I want you to be the first to claim me. To ruin me for all the other guys."

"This… this is a trick, isn't it?" Benny said hoarsely. "I don't know what you hope to achieve – "

Her stomach protested more fiercely, contracting her throat, but she held on and said quietly, coming even closer to his ear, "It's not a trick. I became yours on that hill. And now I'm here to give the rest of myself to you." Her stomach heaved as she let her fingertip run over his thigh. "I've saved myself for the man who was strong enough to take me." Her knees rested on his sofa now, as she rubbed up against him and tried not to puke all over him. Just a little longer, hold on just a little longer. She lightly let her breasts brush his arm. Oh God she was going to be sick. Letting her lips touch his ear, she whispered, "I'ma virgin. Take me and make me think of you every time another man fucks me."

It was working. She knew it was. Benny's voice and breath said it all when he could only utter, "This… this is…"

"Take me to your room. I want you to tear my clothes off, I want your hands to be the first to run over my naked body, and I want you to be the first to enter me." Her stomach fought to eject its contents. She couldn't keep this up for long anymore. If he didn't break now, she would. "I want you to brand me forever."

He got up, shaking on his legs. En sat on her knees on the sofa, her hands between her knees, upright and looking up at him like a cat waiting for scraps. Benny swallowed again and adjusted his tie. "Meet me… meet me in my room – uh, my office… in twenty minutes." He made a feeble hand gesture at his two bouncers. "Let her through to my office, got it?"

One of the bouncers managed to suppress his grin, the other didn't. "Sure thing."

Followed by his bouncers, Benny made a hasty retreat, running his fingers through his hair though it didn't need adjusting. When he was out of sight, En went straight for the toilet, pulled open one of the stall doors, got to her knees and with a loud retching noise, vomited in the toilet bowl again and again until there was nothing left to puke out.


	40. The Price of Arrogance

.

**FORTY**

**The Tops Casino**

**July 11****th**

**21:08**

"Here to see Benny?" En said to the bouncers at the door. She'd gone up the stairs to the Chairmen's offices (while sucking on a breath mint) after waiting fifteen minutes and telling her friends everything was okay, but that she was still negotiating. She'd given her weapon in Meyers' care for the time being since she was certain she wouldn't be allowed up there with a gun. Melissa had glared at her, but En really didn't have the time or the patience to deal with that right now.

"Oh, right," the bouncer said. "You're the uh… right." He quickly checked to see she wasn't armed. Way ahead of you, musclehead.

As they stepped away from the door and vacated the corridor, one said to the other, "Looks like Benny likes 'em young."

The other replied, "And mediocre."

Assholes.

She took a breath and gently knocked on the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's uh…it's me."

"Come on in."

En swallowed, closed her eyes briefly, and opened the door.

Benny's "office" was really not an office at all, but a luxury bedroom. Polished wooden furniture stood against the wall, and the floor was covered in expensive looking wall-to-wall carpet. Flanked by two night stands, in the centre of the room, was a king-sized bed with silk sheets, and half under those sheets and with no shirt on, was Benny himself. He'd propped himself up against the head end of the bed and lay watching her, his arms crossed in front of his bare chest. He really had fallen for it.

En quickly scanned the room. His checkered suit was draped over a chair, his wallet on the table next to it, and on the night stand next to the bed lay what she needed: the pistol he'd used to shoot her in the head, almost three weeks ago.

"So," Benny said, his voice in between inviting and just plain lewd. "Why don't you slip out of those clothes, hm? Do it real slow, make it last."

Instead, she picked up the checkered jacket, held it up with one finger, and said seductively, "Wouldn't you rather see me put this on first?"

"No," he said curtly, and visibly made nervous. "Put that down."

With a pout, she did so, but not before making a deft and unseen motion with her hand. As she put it back, she saw his face relax again.

"Now let me see every bit of you."

She wasn't planning to reveal herself in the least. All she had to do was get close enough. She slowly went closer to him, put her hands on the foot end of the bed, and crawled towards him. "I'd rather let you peel the clothes off me yourself." Argh, it felt so disgusting to say.

Benny grinned and uncrossed his arms. "Come here then."

She slowly crawled to him (thank God she no longer had anything to puke up) and as she did so, his hands ran up her arms, over her shoulders, and then they made a dive, roughly grabbing hold of her breasts. She instinctively drew back, finally able to drop her act, since the pistol was within arm's reach. She snatched it up and immediately took a few steps away from him, aiming the gun at his forehead with both hands. A shiver went through her when she realized where his hands had just been. "Now you're going to answer every question I ask you," she snapped, keeping the pistol on him.

The disappointment in his eyes was genuine. "_Really_, kiddo?"

"I'm not kidding around," En warned.

He sighed. "Should've known that whole thing was too good to be true."

Yeah he should have, but he just had to think with his dick instead. "Start talking," En ordered. "What was so special about that chip?"

"Fine, I'll indulge you." He actually managed to sound magnanimous. "That chip's more than a piece of platinum."

"I gathered as much, tell me something I don't know. What is it really?"

"It's the key to New Vegas, the key to the entire Mojave." There was a trace of awe in his voice.

Ugh, he was trying her patience. "What the fuck _is it_?"

He clicked his tongue. "Of that, I'm not yet sure myself. But it's definitely something that can help me get that prick House out of the way and become the boss of New Vegas myself."

Tears welled up in En's eyes as she asked the one question, the one she'd repeated over and over again in her mind without ever knowing the answer. "Why did I have to die?"

He blinked. "Seems rather obvious, doesn't it?"

"No you bastard it doesn't seem obvious from where I'm standing," En shouted. "You had what you wanted and still you had to kill me. Why?"

He was silent for a while, then sighed. "It's like I told you back then, kiddo. It wasn't nothing personal, just business. Nobody could know I stole your package. All I needed was a few days, and making sure I didn't leave anyone alive bought me that."

"So that was it, then? Just business." It sounded oddly anticlimactic. And it was only now that she realized she had no idea what she'd expected from the answer to the question she'd been burning to ask all this time. She'd considered the question and its answer to be critical, to be the key to her acceptance of the events, a way to find closure. But had they been? There was no big revelation, no puzzle pieces falling into place. Just a half-naked thief in a bed and a stupid girl who'd chased that man for the answer to a question she really should have accepted from the start rather than hoping there was a great secret behind it. She quietly repeated, "Just business."

"That's exactly what it was. Sorry to disappoint you if you were expectin' some grand scheme involvin' you at the center. You really were just a footnote in the whole story, kiddo."

But God dammit, whatever the reason had been, he had no right to call her that! "I'm not a footnote! I'm a person! With real feelings! With parents, with friends, with hopes and dreams and – "

He waved her words away. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure."

So what happened now? She had her answer. It was the worst answer it could have been: the one she'd expected from the start but hadn't made peace with, had refused to accept in all its banality. So now what, go home? Leave this thieving murdering fuck in his bed to pursue whatever selfish plans he'd made? Or leave him in his bed with his brains against the wall, like he'd done to her? It would only be just, but…

"So kiddo, you clearly haven't thought through the rest of this," he remarked, still sounding calm, even casual. He was right. The bastard was right. She'd been so busy preparing for the moment that she'd completely forgotten to figure out what was supposed to happen after it.

"No I haven't," she admitted. "But I'd really like to hear you say you're sorry for what you did to me." She jabbed the gun at him to make it clear it wasn't a request.

"Awh," he said, feigning regret. "No point to that, is there? I could say the words, but I wouldn't mean them."

"Try, asshole," En raised her voice again. "And don't forget I'm the one holding the gun!"

But his response wasn't what En expected, and it made her gut clench. He didn't seem to give a damn about the gun. And it became clear why. With a grin, he said, "Yeah, but I'm the one holdin' the _loaded_ gun." His hand calmly went under the covers and came back up holding another pistol.

En's mouth went cork dry and her stomach pulled together into a hard ball. No way. No way. This had to be a bluff.

"Try it," he said, guessing her thoughts. "Go on, better make sure, right?"

Clenching her teeth, she pulled the trigger, knowing what would happen. The bastard had been way too smug. And indeed, the hammer of the nine millimetre went back and clicked… and did nothing else.

Oh God no. She thought she'd tricked him, but her trap had blown up in her face. There was no way he'd let her live this time. He'd pump bullet after bullet inside her and then tell his bouncers to dump her mangled corpse in a container or a ditch. Her parents wouldn't know what happened to her, and probably not even her friends downstairs. She'd just disappear. And still she'd be nothing more than a footnote for this rotten bastard. Tears welled up in her eyes and she dropped the gun, letting it _bonk_ to the ground.

"Come on, kiddo," Benny laughed. "You really thought I'd be so naïve not to have a few security measures ready for when you turned out not to be sincere after all? Reason I'm still alive today is because I always prepare for everything." When she remained quiet, he added, "And you obviously didn't, which is why you're in this situation right now."

The tears built up in her eyes, and one drop spilled over the brim of her eyelid, streaking down her face. "Better do it right this time then, huh?" she managed to say. "Just do… do the same thing you did last time?"

"You know, kiddo," Benny ruminated. "I might have a solution to all this."

En was unable to speak. Surely it would just be another game, or a cruel way to toy with her.

"I could keep you quiet another way. You realize I emptied your wallet when I took your package, don't you?" Of course she realized, the bastard had torn the photo of her parents in two and thrown it to the wind!

"That means I know where you live. And where you go to school. New Arroyo has a school, right?"

Shit, the bastard knew.

"So," he continued. "I'd know just where to send some racy material."

Her mouth moved, but she couldn't find words. "Whuh… _what_?"

The gun still aimed at her, he reached over to his night stand, rummaging in the drawer. "See, the critical part of my plan is over. So just a small safety should be enough to discourage you from trying funny things like, say, ruining my reputation or sending some New Arroyo cops in their badass tin suits after me." His hand came back up, holding a polaroid camera. "I know a guy who can magnify these to poster-size."

En still didn't understand.

"And I'm sure you'd hate to see posters of you appearin' in your school or in your parents' letter box. Or at the houses of your friends." He snapped a picture at her with one hand, the flash briefly blinding her. "I'm sure they'd appreciate it, though."

What the f…

The picture came out of the camera with a soft buzzing sound and flitted down to the blanket. "I'm sure they'd love to see their tough adventurer girl friend in a new light. Start undressing."

"Wh – "

"Take your clothes off." When she still hesitated, he waved the gun and said, "I can always finish what I started on that hill if you prefer?"

"Wait, I – "

"_Do it._"

The bastard meant it. It was humiliation or death. Praying for a miracle, En slowly unbuttoned her denim skirt. The polaroid flashed again.

"If you're good, I'll just keep these in my private collection. You know, my eyes only." Another flash as her skirt dropped to the ground. "Shirt now."

"Look – "

"I ain't tellin' you again."

Fresh tears welling up in her eyes, En lifted her shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground, putting her in her underwear. The air on her skin felt cold and merciless. Instinctively, she tried to wrap her arms around herself to protect her body from the polaroid flash.

"Bra."

En closed her eyes and brought her hands behind her back to unhook it. Another flash penetrated bright orange through her closed eyelids.

"Drop the fucking gun right now, asshole."

That voice wasn't Benny's! En opened her eyes and couldn't believe what she saw. On the other side of the bed, looking as if he'd appeared out of the god damn bathroom, was Trenchcoat, even though he wasn't wearing one right now. What the fuck was he doing here? Or it didn't even matter! Holy shit, talk about being in the nick of time.

Benny looked as amazed as she was.

Trenchcoat minus his trenchcoat stepped forward, his colt python levelled at Benny, and only then noticed her, his eyes briefly showing his puzzlement. Then he turned back to Benny. "The gun. Drop it."

"Nu-uh, you fink. _You_ drop it or I'm redecoratin' my room with your friend's brain."

"Who, her?" Trenchcoat shot back. "She's not my friend, so that's not gonna work. But drop the gun and you've got a chance to survive this night." His eyes briefly went to En, and she couldn't tell what his look meant or if he was sincere about her. She felt like the biggest, most worthless fool alive right now. "Drop the god damn gun," Trenchcoat repeated.

Benny clicked his tongue. "Sorry, kiddo, looks like we'll have to take a little break here. But don't go anywhere." He let the gun point down, his finger through the trigger guard, and made to drop it.

"Wait," Trenchcoat stopped him. "Don't just drop it. Throw it to her."

The anger briefly flashed on Benny's face, and he threw his gun to her. With a loud _bonk_, it landed at the denim skirt lying around her still-booted feet.

With the disdain clearly apparent in his voice, Trenchcoat told her, "Put your clothes back on," before turning back to Benny. "I'm betting she was here for the same reason I am."

Benny sighed angrily and rolled his eyes. "_Another_ damn courier? Fuck _me_." En hastily threw her clothes back on, though she still felt as naked as she had in her underwear.

"Fuck you indeed. You may have outsmarted this teenage airhead here, but your game's over now. I'm not gonna waste time letting you explain or asking you why. Stand up."

His jaw clenched, Benny got out of bed and stood up. Thank God he was still wearing his boxers. Trenchcoat came to stand next to En. "You took something from the both of us. You killed my brother and tried to kill this kid here. She's got terrible headaches and seizures for the rest of her life because of you." En briefly wondered how he knew all this, but then realized, of course. Veronica must have told him.

"Like I told her," Benny merely said. "Strictly business."

"It's not business for us," Trenchcoat snapped. "I can't bring my brother back, but maybe the pain in this kid's head might be a little less if she sees a bullet put through your head." His free hand grabbed En's wrist and pulled up the hand holding Benny's pistol. "On your knees," he ordered Benny.

"You're makin' a huge mistake," Benny tried to argue, the fear suddenly very real in his voice. "You don't know who you're – "

"Shut up and get on your god damn knees," Trenchcoat barked.

His face livid, Benny slowly went down to one knee, then another.

Letting go of En's wrist, the man said to her, surprisingly gently, "My brother's gone. But you're not. You're going to have to live with what this bastard's done to you every day. So out of respect for that, I'm giving you this one."

En didn't fully understand, the gun in her trembling hand aimed at Benny. "What do you mean?"

"You can kill him, he's yours."

En's breath picked up speed as she saw Benny sitting in front of her, on his knees, his eyes full of hate. Every day she woke up with head pains because of this bastard. People she loved and people she hated and everyone in between had seen her thrash on the ground and drool on her chin, seen her get reduced to a kicking, spasming retard, worthy of ridicule and disgust. All because this motherfucker wanted a small piece of platinum. She felt her face contract into a mask of hatred and her finger curled around the trigger. The bastard had sentenced her to a lifetime of pain and medication and an ugly scarred head _and headaches and seizures and fear and crying and humiliation and strictly business and pain and headaches and a faceless nobody and a corpse in a shallow grave and scars and anger and worry and scarsandpainandangerandafoot noteandhatredandheadachesand fearandagonyand – _

NO!

She was knocked back into her body with a hard jerk. She was not a killer. Not someone who shot a man in cold blood. The realization came as an enormous relief, even as it made tears wash down her cheeks. She was not a killer. The moment she'd been both anticipating and fearing ever since she started on her journey had come, and she'd fought her urge for revenge and won. She was not a killer. She was stronger than her hatred, and the tears running down her face were not the tears of sadness – they were the tears of victory.

"I… I'm not…" she said quietly. The gun trembled in her hand.

"Can't do it, huh?" Trenchcoat said, not unsympathetic. "Then you're a better person than I am."

Before she realized what happened, he reached for the gun in her hand, pulled it from between her fingers, and aimed it at Benny's forehead. "Time to cash the chips," he said to Benny, "and you're coming up short. Ring-a-ding-ding, you murdering bastard."

A loud _bang_ did to the silence what the bullet did to Benny's head. He let out a surprised "Hrgh?!" as the back of his skull jumped up and his brain smacked against the wall behind him. The force of his brain and skull exploding out of his cranium made his head fall forward, and the resilience of his neck made it bounce back, until it settled on a lolling-back position. On his knees, Benny's dead body kept its balance for a few more moments, and then it fell back, the knees cracking as they doubled over and the ligatures snapped from the weight. His dead body soiled its blue-and-white striped boxers, while the front of its underpants bulged up from a death erection.

And so, at last, Benny was dead.

Calmly, Trenchcoat dropped the pistol. "That's that. Go on girl, time to go."

En hadn't heard him, she was too overcome with emotion from seeing Benny die.

"Kid," Trenchcoat repeated. "You need to go. Head to the bathroom, go through the secret passage behind the man-sized mirror. That'll lead to the service entrance. Pick up your buddies and get out. Your journey's over."

"Aren't you g – "

"I still have stuff to do here. Go on, go catch your breath, you're in shock."

After one last look at Benny's body, she ran to the bathroom. The secret passage was still ajar, and she pulled open the mirror-slash-door, entering the rough brick corridor. It was dark, but her confused mind still remembered her Pip-boy light, and turned it on. There was a robot in the corridor, but this one didn't have the cartoon cowboy face of Victor, nor the cartoon cop face of the regular securitrons, but on the display of this particular unit was a rather dumb-looking smiley face. She was too confused to actually care about what a god damn securitron was doing here, so she just went on through the corridor, pushing open the other secret entrance, concealed by a fake bookcase in the service hallway. From there, it was easy to just head down the stairs and leave out the back.

She jumped when she opened the door and emerged outside, and saw someone standing there. Shit, they hadn't taken out the security guard! Fuck fuck fuuccckkk!

"What the… En? What are _you_ doing here?" It was Veronica's voice that hissed at her. Oh thank God.

"Ve… Veronica?"

"Yeah, it's me. Where's Garland?"

She didn't even register the name. "He's uh… on his way. Had to do something."

"Benny dead?"

She nodded jerkily. "Yeah he's… dead." It felt indescribably liberating to say.

"Good." Then she cocked her head in the darkness. "Are you alright, hun?"

"Yeah, just… shaken."

"Shut the Hell up you two," another voice came from the darkness. "They're gonna notice something's wrong with all your yakking."

Veronica's head briefly turned toward the stack of boxes the other person was apparently hiding behind, then back to En. "Cass is right. Go on, you're at the Vault 21, right? We'll see you there."

"Okay."

She swung around the front of the casino (Swank wasn't there, thankfully) and ran inside, shouldering through the crowd toward her friends, still at the bar.

"About time you got back, we're – " Sunny began to complain, but she cut herself off when she got a closer look at En. "Sweetie, have you seen a ghost?"

"I'll explain later, but we have to go." Seeing her friends' faces in the warm and bright light of the casino made her settle down a bit, thankfully. She motioned towards Watkins and Meyers, observing a roulette game, and then noticed Melissa coming back from the bathroom. She still looked angry, but at least she had the presence of mind to nod at her and follow them to the exit.

"Did you get an appointment with Benny at least?" Ringo asked as they made for the exit.

"More than that," En said hastily. "I'll explain everything in a minute."

All Ringo could say to that was, "Alright then."

They emerged into main street again, merging with the crowd and making for a small collection of benches under a sign. "Benny's dead," En said to her friends as they all sat down.

"Wait, what, _dead_?" Watkins blurted out.

"Hold on, hold on," Sunny rapped. "What happened?"

"That guy with the trenchcoat," she explained. "He was a courier like me, and Benny killed his brother. We found a way to his office at around the same time." She told them the story, letting out the polaroid bit and how she'd gotten access in the first place, settling for a vague explanation of 'I talked my way in'.

"Good job," Meyers congratulated her as her story ended. "An eye for an eye, little lady. Killers deserve no mercy. It's good that you stayed your hand, but it's much better that he's dead."

"Nevermind that," Sunny said, annoyed, kneeling in front of En and taking her by the shoulders. "Sweetie, I'm proud of you for not killing him."

Melissa settled for a bitter, "Yeah, we already knew you're not a killer."

"So like, this is ideal," Watkins remarked. "Ennie didn't have to kill him, but he's dead after all? That guy did it, right, so you won't have to feel guilty?"

Rationally, she was right, En figured. But rational and emotional were two different things.

"They'll know," Ringo said. "Know about you and that guy. You may have gotten out, but they'll know you killed Benny. And they won't care which one of you two pulled the trigger."

"I know," En groaned. "We've got to get out of Vegas, right? At least, I do."

Meyers shook his head. "Gates close at nine. Can't wait 'til tomorrow, they'll find you before you even leave the gate. I think there's only one thing you can do."

"What?"

Though it seemed like it didn't please him to say it, he did it nonetheless. "You need to ask Mr. House for protection."

"He's right," Ringo agreed. "They might have already found the body. You need to get to Mr. House right away."

"No way," Sunny argued. "That bastard's gonna get her to jump through all sorts of hoops, he's already let her get Benny out of the way for him. Because that sure was damn convenient, wasn't it?"

Before anyone could answer, a voice called out, "Hey, kid!"

Trenchcoat was there again, flanked by Veronica and Cass. This guy was a damn bloodhound.

"What?" she asked.

He didn't beat around the bush. "Where are they?"

En knew what he wanted. "They're with me."

He wanted the little things she'd quickly lifted out of Benny's vest pocket when she made a show of wanting to strip out of it for him. She reached into her skirt pocket and laid the platinum playing card in his hand. "This is yours."

His fingers closed over the playing card and balled into a fist. "The other one too," he demanded.

"No. That one stays with me. That's your package, and this is mine."

Trenchcoat held out his hand. "Give it to me, kid. I said your journey was over."

En stood up and faced him. His height made her feel tiny. "Look, thank you for saving me back there. I mean it." She did. "… but this is my package and _I_ have to deliver it."

The man shook his head. "No one's delivering anything. My brother died over these things. I'm not just giving them away before I know what they are, what makes them so important. So give me your chip."

"No. I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"He saved your ass, kid," Cass, the woman with the straw hat (who En didn't like very much) insisted. "You owe him." The man crossed his arms to reinforce his companion's point.

"You don't understand," En said. "That chip was entrusted into my care. It's simply not mine to give."

A silence fell, Trenchcoat glaring at En.

"Look," Ringo said after a few seconds of tension. "Seems to me that there'll be only one way to find out what those bedamned things are for."

"Yeah, by delivering them? Is that what you're gonna say, smartass?" Trenchcoat snapped.

"Exactly, though I don't much care for your tone," Ringo said, his face hardening at the man, even though he was more than a head taller than him and considerably stronger-looking.

The man's upper lip curled back. "If you stayed out of this, there wouldn't be any need for my tone." From the corner of her eye, En saw Sunny place her hand on the gun at her belt.

"Garland, come on," Veronica tried to calm him down. "We can work this out. Thing is, with Benny dead, only one who knows what these things are is House." Thankfully, she and Watkins didn't seem inclined to aggravate the situation with some more childish bickering.

"Exactly," Meyers supported her. "Doesn't matter who holds what, you two need to get to House or you're gonna get arrested. You're already wastin' time talkin'."

"Nobody's gonna arrest me," the man called Garland said. "Can't arrest who they haven't seen."

"Yeah, because casino service entrances don't have CCTV systems, right?" Ringo pointed out.

That was a hitter, they could see it on the man's face. He'd thought of everything, except the fact that casinos had cameras. Those cameras had picked him up when he entered through the service door, that was for sure. So he was just as screwed as En was.

"Shit Garland," Veronica cursed, scratching the scarf that covered her head. "He's right, we didn't think of that."

"Should have come to me before tryin' to get in through there, you drongos," Melissa said smugly. "I could have warned you about the cameras."

"God _dammit_," the other courier cursed. "Shit, we don't have time to waste. We gotta leave Vegas tonight."

"Gates close at nine. And it's too big a chance," Ringo told him, clearly finding some joy in it. "If they found the body already, they'll stop you at the gate."

"Those securitrons are House' machines," Garland snapped. "They'll let us through, House won't mind that we killed that son of a bitch."

Ringo shook his head. "Nu-uh. House' securitrons only deal with public order. He needs the NCR to deal with judiciary affairs. And it's come to my knowledge that the NCR's weary of holding trials for all the criminal acts here, so they'll probably just go for a quick conviction and a quick bullet."

"He's right." A fourth person had joined Trenchcoat's group, it was the man with the sniper rifle on his back.

"Shit, then we need to get to House," Garland finally caved. "Come on, kid, we gotta go right now."

"We could have been there already by now," En couldn't resist, "if you'd listened to us."

"Don't get smart with me kid," Garland snapped, "Or I'm putting you back in your god damn underwear."

"Underw…?" Sunny asked.

"Doesn't matter," En cut her off. "Could you guys go pick up Cheyenne and our stuff at the hotel? We'll meet at the Lucky 38."

"We'll go do the same," Cass said to her group leader. "We'll wait for you there."

"God dammit," the other courier cursed. "Come on, let's go." Without waiting for En's agreement, he strode off in the direction of the Lucky 38.

En made to go after him, but Sunny grabbed her by the arm. "Watch out for that guy, okay? We don't know how far he's willing to go to get your chip."

"Yeah, I'll be careful."

"No need to be afraid of Garland," Veronica said to Sunny. "He's rough around the edges, but he's a good man. She's safe with him."

Reluctantly, Sunny let go of En's arm and let her follow her colleague.

* * *

><p><strong>END OF<strong>

**PART ONE**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>


	41. Intermission

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>INTERMISSION<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>FORTY-ONE<strong>

**Near the Yangtze memorial**

**June 18th**

**00:23**

"Like Hell I am."

"Come on man, it's only fair. You drank the last of the water, it's your job to refill the canteens."

"No way, asshole. You need water, so _you're_ goin'."

Grinning at his brother's laziness, Daniel stood up and snatched up the canteens. "If I tumble down a hill and break both my legs, I'm ripping them off and beating you with them, you hear?"

"Geez, you big baby," Daniel's brother laughed, pushing himself up from the sandy ground and taking the canteens out of his brother's hand. "Keep your panty-hose on, I'm going."

Content, Daniel sat down again, reaching into his pack for another bag of soft sweets, preparing to gobble them down at his usual tempo, like the sugar maniac that he was. He popped the first gummy cola bottle in his mouth as he watched his brother trudge down the hill to the well they were told was nearby.

It was the last time Daniel would see his brother.

"Don't turn around. There's a gun aimed at the back of your head, dig?"

Daniel froze and showed his empty hands, dropping the gummy cola bottle pack. "If this is a robbery, you're shit outta luck. But you can nab a gummy from my bag if you like?"

"Don't play coy with me. Give me the package you're carryin' and nobody has to die."

Daniel swallowed his half-chewed cola gummy. "Buddy, I think you've got the wrong person."

"Don't be no fink," the voice behind him said. Daniel had no idea what a fink was, and he was guessing the guy behind him didn't either. "Gimme the package and you'll live."

Nu-uh, asshole. The package was entrusted to him and his brother. He wasn't giving it away to anyone. "Look, I'm just some traveller, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You wanna play it hard, huh tough guy? Then I'm playin' along."

Daniel didn't even hear the bang of the pistol behind him. The bullet reached the back of his head before anything else did, destroying his brain stem and making his lower jaw burst in two, the bone hanging loose from his skull. He fell forward, his shattered face coming to rest on his sleeping bag.

At the well below, Daniel's brother saw him die, the empty canteens in his hand clunking to the ground.


	42. Fragments of Memories

**FORTY-TWO**

**Reilly Campsite**

**June 18th**

**00:48**

Garland remained where he was, and not only because he was unarmed and the other man had just shot his brother, and could shoot him just as easily. He was rooted into place. Shit, Daniel, the bastard had killed Daniel!

He saw the man in the checkered suit bend over, rifling through their packs, and finally pulling out a smaller package. Shit, he couldn't see it all that well from there, but it looked like the delivery they were making. No way in Hell this was a coincidence.

The man on the hill froze and raised his pistol. Shit, he'd seen him!

Garland realized just in time that the pistol was being aimed at him, and he tiger-leaped to the side, landing in the sand by the well as two bullets impacted the ground he'd stood on with a pair of _thud_s. Two more shots rang out, and two bullets ricocheted off the well's iron reinforcements.

Garland scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the hills behind him. Another shot rang out, but it went so wide he couldn't even hear the bullet strike. A few more leaps and he'd reached a half-collapsed ruin, hunkering down behind the smashed masonry.

When he carefully peeked out above the rubble, the figure on the hilltop was gone. He'd probably made a run for it. But as soon as his head came out above the stonework, another shot sounded, impacting right next to his head, the dust puffing up from the masonry, right into his eyes. Blinded, Garland fell back, his hands over his eyes.

When he got his sight back, the bastard was gone.

Carefully, he sneaked toward the hilltop, but the shooter had made a run for it, and there was no more danger.

Daniel lay face down on his sleeping bag, a pool of blood soaking into the fabric. God damnit Daniel! Garland fell to his knees onto the old sleeping bag, next to his brother. They'd each gotten one from their mother on Daniel's 20th, Daniel a green one and Garland a blue one, and now Daniel had died, his face buried in the green fabric of his sleeping bag.

Garland didn't know how long he'd cried, but he must have slept on his knees during, because dawn was at the horizon when he finally lifted his head. His body numb, he took the small shovel they always brought in their camping gear on long deliveries, and began digging a grave for his brother.

Then he walked. On auto-pilot at first, but his thoughts gradually returned to him as the sun climbed in the sky. Some bastard in a checkered suit had killed his brother. He didn't know how he'd find him, but find him he would. And make him pay. There were no usable tracks leading away from the hill his brother had been buried on, so he'd have to investigate. It didn't matter. He'd move heaven and earth to find the man who'd murdered his brother.

His sullen march took him North, to a town called Sloane, a small mining community. He asked around, but nobody had seen a man in a checkered suit. They'd tried to discourage him from going North, but without any leads, all he could do was keep walking in the direction he'd thought the fucker had run off to.

He'd come to a quarry and tried to climb its walls, but they were made of razor sharp shards of stone, and he'd cut his hands open on them. It didn't matter. He'd persevered and made it up there, avoiding the big nasty creatures in the pit. Then he'd gone through a trench in the mountain, ending up at a ridge overlooking a small valley.

There had been two dead people lying there in the midst of the sacked remains of a caravan. More people dead.

These hadn't been shot in the head like his brother, however, a closer inspection revealed. The man, a burly, bearded caravan driver, had his legs severely mangled by an explosion, and had been finished by a buckshot blast to the chest. A deck of cards had been in his chest pocket, the cards spilling out when he'd fallen.

Garland cried fresh tears when he saw the other dead body. It was a girl of around twelve years old, with blonde pigtails and a white dress with a pink rim, with a print on the front of a pony-sized unicorn, and colourful letters saying, "I LOVE PONYCORNS." She'd been impaled by a thrown spear, her pretty dress dark red with dried blood.

His knees had given out, and he'd sat there, hating the world and all its senseless murder.

Then he got to his feet, and his heart still heavy, did what he'd done for his brother, only this time he had two graves to dig. When it was done, and night had fallen, he'd stood in front of the two stone mounds crowned by the worthless wooden crosses he'd made, and given them a small eulogy. "You're not alone anymore. You can both sleep now, I've made you a bed to lie in. I don't know who you were, but I love you both." They were words so stupid he hated himself for not having anything better to say.

Drained and completely heartbroken, he'd climbed the slope again, onto the ridge.

And there, at around one in the morning, he'd seen a flash, far off in the distance to the South, and a few seconds later, the muffled, far-away _pow_ of pistol fire had reached him.

Without thinking, he'd started running. There was no fatigue, there was no pain, there was no stopping. He'd run through the rock trench, across the quarry, cutting his knees on the sharp stones whenever he stumbled, and down the hill, through the town of Sloane, and back to the Yangtze memorial.

There he had stopped. At his brother's grave he'd collapsed, his lungs burning, his knees screaming and his heart pounding. He'd only allowed himself a bit of rest, but it was clear he couldn't run anymore. But he knew it was him. He didn't know how, but he knew. That checkered-suit bastard. The flash had been too far away though, and impossible to pinpoint. But he was still around. And that gave him hope.

He'd briefly passed through a town called Goodsprings, but no one there had been out and about, and he didn't want to lose time by knocking on doors that wouldn't be opened anyway, because come on, who'd open the door for a stranger at four in the morning?

He'd gone further South, and taken a right at the NCR outpost there to resupply and get some info. Some berk had told him about a man in a checkered suit heading west, through the outpost and back in the direction of California. He'd lost a few days following that lead, going deeper into NCR territory, until that turned out to be a dead end and he had to return to the outpost, angry because of the lost time, but no less determined.

He'd met a woman there, a rather unstable chick who liked the drink a bit too much, and who was pretty hostile in the beginning, making it clear she didn't mind speaking with her fists to people who annoyed her, like some stupid brat that had been there a day or two ago.

Despite her rather abrasive attitude at first, they'd shared a few drinks and warmed up to each other a bit. She'd agreed to tag along since she had nothing else to do. With her caravan bankrupt, she seemed to have hit rock bottom. And so Garland had met Rose of Sharon Cassidy, or Cass for short, and they'd become travelling partners. They'd followed another dead end, another false sighting, leading them to a valley with a crashed train and lots of radioactive-looking goop, which had told them they were going the wrong way. During that trip, Cass had opened up to him, and he'd gradually noticed that there was a very lonely and sensitive person behind the washed-up-drunk façade.

And it had been wrong of him, but when they'd made camp and she'd confessed, half-drunk, that she was falling in love with him, he'd pulled her in close and indulged in a need he didn't realize he had. He didn't tell her he didn't love her back.

They'd come back North, to a place called Primm, and sure enough, the man in the checkered suit had been spotted passing through. A rather skittish-looking deputy had given them the information they needed. He'd looked like he was just about to piss his pants. There'd been a firefight too, but the only casualties had been Powder Gangers. The man who'd told them about the deputy had given them dinner and a roof over their heads at a reasonable price, and at the end of the evening, Garland and Cass had been shown a little robot that could be useful, but only lacked a fission battery, freshly repaired by 'some kid with golden fingers'. As luck would have it, they'd looted a few things including a fresh battery from the train wreck, and with some pushing, pulling and shoving, they'd gotten the battery in there, and the little eyebot had buzzed into life. It had proven to be a reasonably valuable ally, armed with a weak but accurate little laser, and enhanced sensors that let it target all kinds of vermin from far away. It had the tendency to play a little metallic western ditty every time it moved to zap a critter, and that got onto their nerves after a while, but it kept the road and campsites free of nasty crawlies, so its presence was more than welcome, even though being woken in the middle of the night by a speaker trying to imitate a banjo jingle was a definite drawback. Cass had named the eyebot ED-E, pronouncing it Edie, because of the licence plate nailed to its side, and the name had stuck. Cass was falling more and more in love with him, and he didn't have the strength to tell her he didn't feel the same way. And it got more difficult to tell her with every time they gave themselves to their desires.

The three of them had moved where the scaredy-pants deputy had sent them, North to a town called Novac. There, they'd met a man who wanted revenge, just like Garland. Even with very few words, they had understood each other, and Garland knew how he felt, knew what he had to do. So he helped Craig Boone, the former 1st Recon sniper, get his revenge. Investigating had been the tricky part, and it had involved breaking into a safe without being seen, and feeling his stomach turn at the evidence the safe had held.

It had cost him no effort to do what Boone had asked him to. On the contrary, he felt as if justice was being done when he put on the beret like Boone had told him to, and watched the rotten old crone's head burst apart. Garland thought she'd gotten off easy for what she'd done.

Vengeance had begat vengeance, and Boone had joined them to repay Garland for the blood he'd been able to spill. As Garland had given him Jeanie May, so would Boone give him Benny. Because he had a name, that murdering bastard.

At the request of Manny Vargas, Boone's erstwhile colleague, they'd investigated the old REPCONN test centre, helping some weird-ass ghouls launch a few rockets to wherever it was they wanted to fly off to, and putting the hearts of the citizens of Novac somewhat at ease. Boone had made it clear it had been a service rendered to Vargas out of respect, but not out of friendship, and the relation between the two hadn't thawed one bit when they left.

From there it had been on to New Vegas, past the i-88 trading post. There'd been a jewel of a girl there, a sort of Brotherhood expat, full of good cheer and humour, unlike what Garland had expected of a Brotherhood member, since they were usually royal sticks-in-the-mud.

Veronica, her name was, and Garland had taken an instant liking to her. She was friendly, straightforward and without the tiring complexity his other allies had, saying what she thought and listening to when others wanted to say their piece, making jokes without making light. Her light-heartedness was infectious, and it gave Garland the energy he desperately needed to continue his journey. He found himself drawn to her, at least personality-wise, because she'd been pretty clear about being a lez from the start. And despite the fact that she was incontestably cute, he didn't feel drawn to her sexually, just as a friend, a confidante, someone who'd listen to what was going on inside him and not judge or try to enforce her own opinions onto him.

And she turned out to be exactly as he'd expected, becoming his most trusted group member, a good friend who cared about him and the others without trying to change them. Garland knew, however, that despite her sunny demeanour, she carried a burden with her. When he asked her if she had a special someone, she snapped closed and changed the subject. It had happened several times, so it wasn't a coincidence.

Cass, despite claiming not to mind jumping into bed with another woman, had never shown any interest in Veronica, still trying to convince herself she and Garland had a relationship, when they both knew it was one-sided, but one didn't dare admit it to herself, and the other didn't dare admit it to the other.

Together, four people and a little eyebot, they'd arrived in Freeside. They'd scrounged up money by doing a few jobs for a man called the King, a rather eccentric but fair leader of a group called the Kings, who seemed to be emulating an old music icon, though they didn't fully understand who, because most of the material about him had been lost or damaged.

Eventually, the King had vouched for them, and after a substantial payment, they'd been given access to the Strip.

And it turned out he hadn't been the only one with a bone to pick with Benny. Some sixteen-year-old brat had caught a bottle of lead shampoo. She had an insufferable personality, acting like everything was a joke and she knew it all. Well, 'she'… she looked more like a boy than anything. Garland hadn't liked her from the start, but Veronica, who'd apparently met her before, had assured her she wasn't a bad sort, just a little childish and snooty.

Because of that, he felt somewhat responsible for her, and dumb though she may be, he didn't want to see a teenager get hurt. When he offered to take her burden from her though, she'd said no. The kid actually thought she was tough and smart enough to navigate the web they were doubtless to find themselves in. He'd insisted, but she wouldn't have it, the stupid brat. And so she held onto her platinum chip, even though she'd been shot in the head over it before. You'd think she'd be smart enough to learn from that experience, but no.

Her attempt to get answers from Benny had ended in a painful and embarrassing failure, and Garland had found her in her underwear, doing an involuntary striptease for his brother's murderer. She'd looked a little more like a girl in her underwear, at least. When he'd seen her he'd felt a mixture of pity and disdain. And very faintly, seeing that big-mouthed kid humiliated and half-naked had felt strangely erotic.

She'd been too gutless (or not heartless enough) to give Benny what he earned, even though Garland had magnanimously given her the kill. Not his fault she didn't have the stomach. Suited him better, in fact. That way he could take the gun and pull the trigger himself. When Benny's brains splattered against the wall, an immense feeling of relief had washed over him, like an enormous and painful knot uncoiling.

He'd sent the kid away, intending to look for the card and the chip, not knowing she had them already. She'd done something right, at least. Well, right _for her_. But even being saved at the last minute didn't make the kid think twice, and she stubbornly held onto her platinum chip, which she'd stolen from Benny's jacket in his room. So he was stuck with her for the time being. He knew he had to protect her from her own stupidity, because she was getting in way over her head.

He'd had his revenge, Benny was dead, but he wasn't at journey's end yet. He had to know about those things, the things his brother had died over. What their secrets were.


	43. Out of the Frying Pan

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART TWO<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>FORTY-THREE<strong>

**The Lucky Thirty-Eight**

**July 11th**

**23:22**

"Penthouse floor."

Ugh stupid Victor and his stupid tinny robot drawl. And stupid Garland and his stupid Benny shooting and stupid NCR and their stupid quick trials and stupid everything!

En followed Trenchcoat past the secretary robot and to Mr. House' console.

"Well, I must say it is unexpected to receive you both at the same time," House remarked, sounding rather smug. Maybe he'd heard already. Though that would have been _really_ fast – they'd made a beeline for the 38 and gone right in. No, he probably suspected they were in trouble, and he was right. Asshole.

"Benny's dead," Garland said flatly. En had decided to let him do the talking unless he began acting like a jackass.

House' speakers were silent for a moment. Then they said, "I see." En could almost hear the self-satisfaction his face must doubtless have. "Did you recover the platinum items?"

Garland ignored the question and En figured that was probably for the best. "Kid here's been seen going up to Benny's office and the security cameras caught me when I went in through the service entrance."

If House became any more smug, he'd be dripping ooze from every ventilator and power socket. "That puts you two in a very uncomfortable situation."

"Yeah, we're aware," Garland said, irritated. "But we're pretty sure you can sort that out for us."

"I _could_, perhaps, but… you _are_ murderers and it goes against my better judgment to let _murderers_ off the hook."

"Don't bullshit me," Garland snapped. "You want something in return, well here's your god damn platinum card, and since this kid is so high-horsey about delivering her junk herself, she'll give you the chip as well. Isn't that right, kid?"

Before En could answer, House interrupted, "Delivering the card and the chip was part of another transaction, one I have already paid for. Not only did I pay a more than fair sum to the Mojave Express – your employer – for delivery, I have also given both of you a considerable stipend to retrieve what you lost. I don't like it when people try to double-cross me, Garland Reilly, and far more clever men than you have tried. I will overlook this attempt and believe, against better judgment, that it was made out of ignorance rather than malice, but I will not do so again."

Garland said nothing, but he looked to be fuming, clenching his jaw.

"And you, insolent juvenile?" the Mr. House-face on the monitor said. "You seem to have lost your tongue? Or are you waiting for just the right moment to make things even worse with a smart-mouthed comment?"

"No point being smart," En shot at the monitor. "It'd probably go right over your head anyway."

"Just tell us what you want", Garland bit, "so we can get the Hell out of here."

The speakers made a tsk-tsk-tsk sound. "And here I was thinking we could settle this like the adults we are. Well, most of us anyway."

"I am _this_ close," Garland threatened, holding his thumb and index finger slightly apart, "to just turning my back on your whole god damn electronics shop and trying my luck at the gate."

"By all means," House sneered. "You won't make it very far, though. My securitrons can identify a murderer's face instantly, if I feel the need to engage in some vigilanteism."

Garland had to drop his threatening attitude, muttering only, "Fucker" under his breath.

"These audio-receptors are very sensitive, Garland Reilly. As I have already informed miss Tessara here."

"Look," En finally said, "we can stand here all day and act smarmy to each other, and as enjoyable as this little trialogue is, I'd really like to gee-tee-eff-o of this place, so just tell us what you want."

An electronic sigh came from the speakers. "Very well. The platinum items are worthless as they are now. They are but means to an end. You can hold onto them for a while longer, since you'll be needing them for the task I have for you."

Great. Jumping through more god damn hoops. But still, some strange feeling made En want to stick around for this, just to see what those damn platinum widgets were for. Like Garland, she figured her chances of sneaking out somehow were high enough (after all, the NCR and House' securitrons guarded against people trying to get _in_, first and foremost) but the NCR's arm was long, and if they felt like it, they could easily notify the capital, which was situated not all that far from New Arroyo. And guilty or not, she didn't feel like seeing the NCR break down her door one day, drag her out of bed, and haul her to the NCR capital in her undies. The embarrassment alone would be unacceptable.

"Hey look here, mister home cinema set," she said, "you're obviously enjoying yourself being vague, but if you don't tell us what you need doing, we're all gonna stand here until we're wrinkled and incontinent."

House' speakers sighed."Such impatience and impudence. Very well. There is a bunker… at a place called Fortification Hill. Sadly occupied by the NCR at the moment." He paused for effect, making Garland impatiently ask, "Yeah, and?"

Satisfied with the response, House continued, "You will enter that bunker by any means necessary. If you're smart, you'll stay undetected. If not, you are to leave no witnesses, is that clear?"

Garland shrugged, "Sure, yeah."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," En protested. "You mean if those NCR guys see us, we need to kill them?"

"That is correct," House said without any emotion.

"Uh… I thought you and the NCR were in league?" En asked.

"It is an alliance, yes. One that requires sacrifice from both parties. And because of this alliance, you must assure that nothing you do can be traced back to me."

"Yeah," Garland said snidely. "Didn't peg you for the type to get your hands dirty."

House apparently considered this a compliment. "Indeed, caution is part of my duties as a businessman."

"So, that bunker, what then?" En asked.

"Ah yes. Proceed down to the lowest level. You will see a double blast door that can only be opened with one of the items you two are currently holding. Insert the platinum playing card in the slot, and the doors will open. The rest will point itself out."

"So all we need is the card?" Garland asked.

"To open the door, yes." But mysteriously, he added, "I do suggest however, that you undertake this assignment together."

"Ugh," Garland grunted. "I guess you can tag along with me for the time being, kid."

En crossed her arms. "Oh gee, that's mighty gracious of you."

He either hadn't noticed, or deliberately ignored the sarcasm. "Don't mention it. That's two you owe me now, might wanna start keeping track."

Asshole.

"If there is nothing else…?" House said impatiently. Meanwhile, En carefully studied his console and all the peripherals hooked into it.

"Oh I've got plenty of questions," Garland told the screen. Hmmm, some of those plugs were unoccupied. Maybe some little data storage device could be plugged into there and give this bastard's computer a searing hot enema.

"That's lovely," House parried, "But those will have to wait until later. Until then, I believe I've given you something to keep you busy. Unless you'd like me to summon an NCR patrol or two?"

"What, because we wanna ask you some things?" Garland defied him. "You'd be some businessman if you'd let two of your blackmail victims get thrown in jail and lose your leverage over them because of a few questions." That's it, you insufferable bastard, keep him busy. En quickly inventoried the power sockets and the wires leading to different peripherals, especially the ones leading to a transmitter with an antenna fixed to it. With any luck, that thing controlled the securitrons.

House' speakers sighed in irritation. "You have a point. Of course, I could keep my leverage over you if I just get you thrown out by my securitrons. I'm certain the scars will look nice, and the bruises will probably make good party talk."

"I've had worse than a few bruises," Garland scoffed. Even while she was scanning the devices and barely listening, Garland's tough-guy attitude managed to annoy her.

"I'm sure your smart-mouthed friend won't be too keen on being thrown to the street by several metal appendages," House said. "Surely you wouldn't want to be responsible for a young lady – even one with abrasive demeanour such as hers – getting injured by some overzealous securitrons?"

"I'm sure she can take a few bumps and bruises," Garland didn't give in. "Now, my questions."

House got more and more agitated. "You have exactly ten seconds to remove your ill-mannered selves from my presence before you can ask your questions to my securitrons."

Garland looked like he wasn't done defying House, but En cut him off before he could speak. "Let's go, Garland. This is pointless."

"Nu-uh," he remained adamant. "I won't be treated like some dumbass slave. If we're going to do this screen's dirty work, we're not doing it without some god damn respect."

"Garland," En repeated, her eyes urgent, "Let's _go_." Dammit, listen to me you hotheaded poser!

Thankfully, he picked up on En's look, and after a short hesitation, said, "Fine. We're leaving. But when we come back, I want answers."

"I wouldn't count on it," House said, his smirk audible even though the cartoonish face remained as motionless as it always had been. "But perhaps when we next meet, you will have learned a little humility."

As he left with En, Garland couldn't resist calling back, "Oh yeah, a self-possessed fathead lecturing me about humility. That's rich."

"You're both blowhards," En said quietly. "Come on, I've got some things I wanna tell you."

The guy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure _that's_ gonna be good."

"It's gonna be now shut up."

As they stood in the cool night air at the foot of the Lucky 38, En told Garland, "I've been taking a look at that computerized fucker's machinery while you two were comparing cock sizes… ehh, well, figuratively."

"Have you now. I'm sure it was all shiny and complicated, right?"

"Yeah, being an ageist, condescending jackass isn't gonna help much." She meant it.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're right, sorry. It's just… that guy, thing, whatever he is, or it is, just pisses me off to no end."

With a grin, En said, "To tell you the truth, I can't stand either one of you." It was a joke. Sort of.

"Good, I'm not your number one fan either." En assumed that was a joke too. Sort of. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

"_As I was saying_, I've been giving his console the eye, and I think, if I get a few more minutes to figure out his home cinema, I can block his control over the securitrons."

Garland crossed his arms, an incredulous look on his face. "Block his control? _You_?"

"Yes, _me_. What did I tell you about being ageist and condescending?"

"Uh, sorry kid, but I'm kinda finding it hard to believe that _you_ can disable a machine which was probably built by a few people with all sorts of degrees before the war."

"You seem to think disabling a machine is as difficult as building it."

He gave an irritated sigh and looked away. "Listen. For now, we just play his game." He held out his hand. "Gimme the chip, I'll take care of this."

Oh, seriously, he wasn't going to take them down _that_ road again? "I didn't give it to you then and I'm not giving it to you now."

He'd expected that reply, but he still seemed seriously peeved. "Kid, listen. We're not friends or anything, but all this stuff is just too dangerous for a sixteen-year-old. If we get caught sneaking into that NCR building, we'll be _wishing_ for a murder trial. I'm not letting you – "

"Oh, _come on_," En interrupted him. "I've made it this far, I'm sure I'll be able to find someway to get into a bunker behind the backs of a few jarheads. Stop treating me like a child."

"But you _are –_ "

En jabbed her finger at him. "Don't finish that sentence or you're dead."

He gave an embarrassed grin. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah. So anyway, we're gonna do this together. You hold on to your package, I'll hold on to mine." She suddenly realized what she'd said. "Heh. 'Hold on to your package'."

Garland put his hands in his sides and looked at her inquisitively. "This is all a joke to you, isn't it, kid?" It sounded like it was asked without any malice or anger, but that he genuinely wanted to know. And even though he towered above her and always looked angry, he was actually, and strangely, more approachable in that moment than he had been the whole time.

"I just don't see the need to be serious all the time. Seeing the humour in things makes them appear less bad, I guess."

"Mm. Guess you've got a point. There's your friends already."

At a leisurely trot, En's group approached the Lucky 38. They sure looked unworried. So much the better, En supposed.

"So?" Sunny asked, clearly expecting the worst. "What's he want in return?"

En exchanged a glance with Garland. "There's an old abandoned bunker we need to scope out. Nothing dangerous." She hoped the guy would play along. No need to worry her friends needlessly, especially Sunny.

"Which bunker?" Ringo asked suspiciously. Figured he'd be the first not to buy the story.

Garland answered in her place. "We're not supposed to tell. But it should be a quick in-and-out job. Just an errand, really."

"Might I remind you", Meyers said calmly, brushing off his stetson with his sleeve, "that your delivery was supposed to be 'just an errand' too?"

He had a point. He had a god damn point alright, but he wasn't helping. "Cliff," she insisted. "It's fine. It's just something he can't send his bots for."

"I'm assumin' you don't want us to come, you know, mysterious an' all?" Melissa asked.

Garland replied in her place again. "We'll be back in a day or two, no worries."

Melissa returned a flat, "Wasn't askin' you."

"So in the meantime," Leza piped in, "we… what?"

En shrugged. "Just wait a bit. Gamble away some of the money mister TV-screen gave us."

The redheaded drunk with the taco-shaped cowboy hat had joined them too. "Roni and Craig moved our stuff to the 21. Figured it'd be handy if we stayed in the same place as these guys." The way she said 'these guys' was far from appreciative.

"Cool," Garland said. "Thanks Cass." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "We gotta go away for a day or two."

"Sure, when do we leave?"

Oop, that was uncomfortable. "Errr, it's just gonna be us two." His finger went back and forth between himself and En.

Her hands in her side, Cass gave him an incredulous look. "What, you? And this brat? Alone in the desert?"

"_Yes_, Cass. It's strictly business, don't worry."

En got a quick ice cold glance from Cass. "It better be."

"My, my," En heard Ringo say quietly behind her. "Possessive."

Sunny replied with a neutral "Mm."

Garland turned to En. "Go now, or get some sleep first?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you prefer."

He thought for a second. "Go now then."

"Let's roll."

They swung by the Vault 21 to pick up some supplies and say goodbyes. Garland had to stay behind for a quick explanation from some blond-haired guy En had never seen before, with thick-rimmed glasses and a white coat. En thought she'd heard the word "Enclave" being dropped, but she wasn't entirely sure. No matter, it was their business.

En swung the Garand onto her back and stuck the Beretta in her holster. Putting the stinky leather armour back on wasn't a joyful event, but you never knew.

"Wait a sec," Garland said as he saw her emerge into the lobby, zipping up the leather jacket. "Is that your usual travelling get-up?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" Something else to be condescending about?

But Garland rose and motioned her to wait a moment. "Hold on, I've got to go get something."

He returned a little later, his backpack slightly but noticeably more full. "Alright, let's hit it."

"Have a good trip," the plainer and more jewish version of Watkins called after them when they went up the stairs leading back to the streets. As Garland said his goodbyes to his friends, En did the same. She wasn't able to escape a brief but tight Sunny-hug, and even after being assured it'd only be for a day or two, Sunny had still insisted on repeating over and over that she had to be careful. The others were less emphatic in their goodbyes, but En was pretty convinced they all meant it when they said they hoped she'd be back soon.

With a last look at her friends and Garland's standing next to them, their silhouettes dark against the red glare of the spotlights behind, En began walking next to Garland.

What a turn these events had taken.


	44. Isoge!

**FORTY-FOUR**

**The Strip, North Gate**

**July 12th**

**04:52**

"Let's hope these jarheads let us pass without too much trouble."

En couldn't agree more. They were walking toward the North gate, which opened at four A.M. apparently, mostly to let deliveries pass, or whatever needed to be done in the early hours.

"Try to look as casual as possible," Garland passed along.

Gee, thanks for the advice, Captain Obvious.

The soldiers at the gate looked to be rather disinterested in their jobs, which was a good thing. Well, not for the NCR or for the guards themselves, but for En and her trenchcoated new best friend, it was slightly positive.

But so much for the encouragement when the two guards noticed them, their eyes went wide and they reached for their weapons. "Holy shit," the one said to the other, "That's them. The suspects from the Tops."

"Hold it right there, you two," the female guard said imperiously, but with a slightly nervous edge in her voice.

"Run?" Garland asked quietly.

Shit, this was screwed. "But if we run, won't they think we – "

"You to the right, I to the left, _go_!" With that, Garland abruptly shot off, bolting away from her in the direction of the alleyways. Oh, motherfucker! There was nothing else for En to do than dart off herself, to the other side of the street. There were no alleys, but there _was_ a fire escape leading to the roof of a low building.

Behind her, she heard the shrill sound of a police whistle being blown. Oh, crap, this was just great. She reminded herself to make her last wish to leave her legs untied so she could kick Garland in the shins when they stood before the firing squad. Footsteps sounded behind her. The shitsticks were pursuing, of course.

She sprinted to the building and leapt for the ladder, getting hold of it and hoisting herself upward as fast as she could, but when she tried to pull her leg up, she yelped when she felt a hand snatch the leg of her pants. Without thinking, she kicked out and her heel connected, producing a female-sounding grunt of pain below her. The hand let go and she pulled herself up to the rooftop. As she scampered to her feet, though, she heard boots dinging on the ladder below her. Damn, this one wasn't going to give up easy.

She got to her feet and ran on, clearing the flat roof and making a hop to the next building. Both buildings were only a single storey high, so the jump wasn't exactly scary. Another ladder took her to a roof one storey higher, but the guard was a go-getter, hot on her heels. "Hey you, stop!" the guardswoman shouted. Yeah, as if _that_ would work.

The distance between the two buildings was much bigger this time, and En didn't know if she could make it. A fall from two storeys high could be fatal or at the very least yield some broken bones. Then again, trips to the firing squad tended to be quite deadly too.

The NCR guard's head appeared at the top of the ladder. "Come on kid, that's way too far." Her eyes looked genuinely worried. "Don't do it, kid. Don't jump." Shit, shit, shit. Licking her lips, En took a step or two backward, and then ran as fast as she could to the edge, her left leg pushing her off.

During one short moment, En thought she was going to make it, sailing through the air, weightless and completely free… but then she felt herself falling away, the edge of the other building suddenly completely unreachable.

The wind was smacked from her when her chest impacted with the edge of the building. Reflexively, hooked her fingers around the far corner of the parapet, her body hanging from the wall and her arms on the ledge. She tried to pull herself up, but her muscles screamed in protest, and she simply didn't have the strength.

"Hang on for a bit, kid," a male voice said below her. "We'll get you down."

When she looked down, she saw a squad of NCR MP's looking up at her, their rifles trained on her. Two of them put a ladder against the wall, sliding it under her feet.

Fuck.

"No teeth loose, Laura?" the squad leader called to the guard still on the rooftop.

"No sir, I'm fine. Just a bruise below the eye."

"Good."

"Kid, you could have broken your neck with that jump," the trooper called down.

"All the more reason", the sergeant said, "to conclude she ran because she's guilty."

En, meanwhile, was stripped of her weapons, held against the wall and body-searched by a female soldier. Then her arms were roughly pulled behind her back and her hands cuffed. She was unable to resist, completely winded from the impact with the ledge, her ribs throbbing in pain. Good thing she wasn't equipped like Watkins or she'd be in for a lot more hurt.

"You, kid," the squad leader said to En.

"Y… yeah?" She dreaded what she was about to hear.

"You're under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Benny Gecko, Chairman of the Tops. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." There used to be more to that rights-reading, before the War, but now it was just that one sentence. "You're a minor from the looks of you, so you just might dodge the firing squad."

That… was at least a bit of a relief. "I'd rather dodge the bullets than the squad," she heard her mouth say.

"That supposed to be funny?"

"Uh… yeah, it was."

The squad leader shook his head. "Just be quiet and get moving."

The two soldiers grabbed her by the upper arms and led her back to the gate.

"Seeing the look of despair on their faces when the sarge reads 'em their rights never gets old, does it?" the one trooper holding her said to his colleague.

"Nope. You can literally see them realize their number's up."

"Whatcha think? Jail or the bullet for this one?"

"I don't care, Rotting in jail or rotting in the ground, all the same to me. I'm just glad when I can see the scumbags' faces go slack when their hands get cuffed."

She felt a hard push to her back. "Move it, you killer."

The emerged from between the buildings, back on main street, in the cold morning air. As En was hauled towards the gate, what she saw gave her a very mixed feeling indeed. On the one hand, her heart sank, but on the other, she felt strangely glad she wasn't alone. Held by two troopers and cuffed just like her, and barely containing his anger at his capture, stood Garland.

"This one took a pretty unfortunate spill, sergeant," the male gate guard holding Garland said with a sneer. "Resisted arrest, but there's only so much fighting back you can do when you just crashed over a dumpster and got its contents dumped over you."

En had wondered what the smell was. Oh dear, that must have made it extra humiliating for him. There was still a potato peel in his hair. En made a mental note to ridicule him as much as she could if they ever got out of this situation.

"So um," she asked the squad leader. "Any chance of posting bail or something?"

"_Bail_? Kid, this isn't a pre-War movie. We've got orders to apply quick justice for several months now. Basically we wait for the lieutenant, give him our report, and he decides."

One of the guys holding En found it necessary to add, "Wouldn't wanna be in your shoes right now. The LT on duty's a razor-chomping hangin' judge."

En clenched her teeth but managed to keep quiet.

The squad leader looked out onto the street. "There he is now."

En's gut knotted when she saw the man. He certainly looked the part of the old square-headed warhorse. He even seemed to have been shot in the face at some point, as the star-shaped scar on his cheek suggested. En doubted that pointing out they had something in common would work to their advantage. The sergeant saluted at him.

"Yes, sergeant?" he asked, sounding in a terrible mood and not saluting back.

"These are the two suspects of the Tops murder, sir."

"Right. Sure it's them?"

"They tried to leave the city and ran when we tried to question them, sir."

"M-hm. They use force?"

"Kid here didn't, man did."

The lieutenant briefly let his eyes brush over the still contained-furious looking Garland and said dismissively. "Murder in the first degree, compounded by resisting arrest. I hereby sentence you to be placed into custody for an hour, and then to suffer death by shooting." En's mouth fell open.

"What?!" Garland shouted. "You don't even know if I'm guilty! You don't have any proof!"

"Proof?" the lieutenant asked with a mocking smirk. "I know you're guilty and that's enough. Take him to his cell for processing."

"You can't do this!" Garland yelled, struggling as the troopers dragged him away. "This isn't justice, this is bullshit!"

"Soldier?" the lieutenant said casually. "Calm him down, please?"

The next moment, the troopers briefly let go of Garland and pushed their electric batons against his chest, sending crackling shudders through his body. Garland shook and cried out, then fell to his knees, shaking from the jolt. Without any visible emotion, the soldiers hooked their hands around his arms again and pulled him to his feet, dragging him semi-conscious to his cell.

En's blood boiled, but she knew speaking now would cost her her life, because once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.

"Then, this one? Resisted arrest?"

The sergeant blinked. Hadn't he just told him? "Uh, no sir, she just ran."

"She did kick Laura in the face, sir," one of the troopers holding her couldn't resist pointing out. En could tell the sergeant had been hoping everyone kept their mouths shut.

"That true, private?" the lieutenant asked.

"Well, sir…" the female trooper said, looking awkward. "I'm sure it was an accident, when she climbed the ladder, I don't – "

"Did she kick you or not, you baby-making trollop?" he snapped. Whoa, someone didn't seem to like the idea of women in the army.

"Uh…" the trooper replied, lost for words. "I uh… suppose she did, sir, but – "

He turned away from her and back to the sergeant standing next to En."Resisting arrest then. I hereby sentence you to be placed into custody for an hour and then to suffer death by shooting."

Oh no. Oh please no. En felt her breathing pick up and her heart pound.

"Lieutenant, with all due respect sir," the sergeant said. "She's a minor, surely – "

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Oh thank God he was gonna rethink his decision. "Make sure you notify the parents of her conviction and execution."

No! No, no, _no_! En's vision blurred as tears of despair welled up in them. They were going to shoot her like a dog and then tell her parents she had to be shot because she murdered a man. This wasn't happening. This wasn't fucking happening! "No, wait!" she blurted out. "Please, I didn't kill anyone, you have to believe me!"

"That's what they all say," was all the lieutenant dignified her plea with. "Take her away."

"Please, no, _please_!" Tears were flowing freely now, but she didn't care. All she cared about was living. "I didn't kill anyone, you can't do this!"

The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "_Really_? Am I going to have to give you both a jolt? You killed a man, now face the consequences."

"But I _didn't_ kill him! Garland…" she interrupted herself and shut up. She wasn't going to rat him out, even when he was already found guilty. Or maybe… he _was_ found guilty, and he _had_ killed Benny, and she _hadn't_…

"Garland what, girl?" the sergeant asked.

"He… he…" Oh God what to do, what to do?

"If you've got something to say that can lighten your sentence, child," the sergeant said. "_Please_, say so now."

"Don't encourage the stupid girl, sergeant," the lieutenant ordered. "It'll just be lies to get herself out of the death penalty."

"Garland…" she began to say to the sergeant, but hesitated. It wasn't right to betray him. He'd killed Benny, yes, but he'd saved her life too. On the other hand, he was already guilty, there was no way she could possibly make it worse. And she wanted to live, even if they threw her in jail, surely Mr. House could bail her out or something? Why didn't he notify the NCR already? Why did he let them get caught in the first place? What to do, what to do?!

The sergeant looked into her eyes. "Yes, kid?"

She screwed her eyes closed, struggling with the dilemma. But before her closed eyes, fireflies squiggled and the choice was made for her.

She only managed to say, "Gar… Guh…" before the seizure took her and the world disappeared in a white flare and deafening shrieking. She felt her body start to shake, and the last thing she heard was the trooper holding her, saying, "Whoa, this kid's goin' nuts!"

She smacked down hard on the floor but didn't feel it, and then the world fell away.


	45. Jailed

**FORTY-FIVE**

**A Jail Cell**

**July 12th**

**05:13**

"Hm. She looks fine."

"Not that it matters. Dead in half an hour and all that."

"Hey, you two. Shut your god damn mouths! You alright, kid?"

That voice she did recognize. It belonged to a guy in a trench coat. The world slowly returned to normal, the shrieking in her ears abated and her vision undoubled. "I'm… I'm fine, just…"

"Seizure, huh?"

"Uh huh."

The world had become understandable enough for her to recognize her surroundings. She was in a barred jail cell, lying on a hard stone floor. There were bars on three sides of her, and humid dark brown bricks on the other. In the cell next to her, Garland sat squatted and looking at her with a worried face, his arms lazily hanging through the bars. "Well, you were right and I was wrong," he admitted with a sigh. "Shouldn't have run. Ah well, hindsight, I suppose…"

En sat up laboriously. "Fat lot of good that does us now. They're going to _shoot_ us, Garland." Her stomach sank low in her abdomen at the thought. She was going to be put against a wall, given a blindfold, and bullets would tear through her chest, shredding her heart and lungs. Oh God it would _hurt_!

"I'll think of something," Garland said, sounding confident. Come on, man. We both know you won't think of anything.

But okay, okay, she had to stay constructive. In the other cell sat a black guy looking dejected. "Hey uh, you can't pick locks by any chance, can you?"

The black guy frowned. "What makes you think I can pick locks?"

"Well…" En didn't want to say it straight out, but he looked like a criminal after all. "Aren't you, uh… 'urban?"

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ."

"Nevermind her," Garland said, looking awkward. "She's from New Arroyo, crazy shit just comes out of her mouth sometimes."

"I'll have you know, I'm not the thieving type," the black guy pointed out.

En flapped her hand at him. "I don't care. Garland, we gotta get out of here."

"That we do." He didn't seem inclined to spring into action though.

"If you hadn't shot Benny, we wouldn't have – "

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, nudging his head at the two troopers standing guard at the end of the hallway. "Until we're tied to a post and looking down six barrels, we're not confessing to anything!"

"What's the point," En heard herself whine. "They're gonna shoot us anyway."

"You don't know that," Garland said. "Now shut up and let me think."

"You wanna break outta here," the black guy offered as advice, "best bet would be to try and overpower them when they come to get you out of your cell."

"They've got _guns_, in case you haven't noticed," En pointed out, her voice still sounding like a whine.

"So?" He shrugged. "What are they gonna do? Shoot you?"

"It's not a bad idea, actually," Garland said. "Be good as a last ditch effort."

There was a _clang_ as the door to the prison closed, making all three prisoners turn their heads in its direction. The NCR lieutenant strode in. Waving his finger lazily at the three cells, he ordered, "Unlock these. You can go home."

En's heart leapt when she heard it. Whatever had reversed the lieutenant's decision, she didn't care. They were going to let them go! God dammit, last-minute miracles actually did happen! "We can go?" she blurted out, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

"_He_ can go home," the lieutenant clarified, a cruel sneer on his face. "He's sobered up and slept it off."

"I was brought up on a drunk and disorderly," the black guy told her, getting up from his bench. "Because I was a bit too enthusiastic in celebrating my new contract, singing for Tommy Torini. Not as impressive as your murder charge, isn't it, white girl?"

Oh no. No! No! _NO!_ God dammit! En felt her insides turn to lead, her hopes crashing down around her. Garland only muttered a quiet, "motherfucker."

"The reason I'm opening your cells," the lieutenant said, "is because it's time."

"Look," En tried one last time. "I didn't… we didn't kill that guy. You _have_ to believe us! You're going to execute innocent – "

"Quiet, girl," the lieutenant snapped, looking insulted by her plea. Then he nudged his head at the two troopers flanking him. "Get her."

"No, hey!" Garland shouted. "If you gotta do it, take me first!"

"Don't worry," the lieutenant said casually. "You'll die together."

The two troopers marched into her cell and grabbed her by the upper arms. "Listen to me," she shouted, in tears. "Please, I haven't done anything!"

"Make sure she doesn't get another seizure," the lieutenant coldly said. "It's embarrassing enough as it is."

"Please! Please, I'm begging you, I haven't killed anyone!"

Garland stood in his cell, gnawing at his lip.

"Be quiet, child," the lieutenant said in a bored voice. "Begging won't help, have some damn dignity."

The troopers began hauling her out of the cell, but they froze and looked at their lieutenant in bewilderment when Garland suddenly shouted, "It was me!"

There was a moment of silence and no one moved.

"I killed Benny. She didn't. She's innocent."

"… Sir?"

The lieutenant was quiet for a moment, then said, "Obviously a lie to spare his accomplice. Continue with the execution."

"No!" En shouted. "You can't do this! He just told you I'm innocent!"

"Take her away."

En struggled and kicked, but the troopers were far too strong, and they hauled her outside to the small courtyard, into the bright morning sun, where a squad already stood waiting. They had black bands around their upper arms. En kept thrashing and kicking like a devil in a vat of holy water, but the troopers bore her resistance in silence as they dragged her to the other side of the courtyard.

Then she saw the wall, and she felt her muscles go slack and utter despair sloughing over her and taking away all her strength. It wasn't the wall. It was the countless holes in it.

The troopers roughly shoved her against the wall and cuffed her to an iron ring set in it. The soldiers opposite her stood talking and smoking cigarettes. This was all just a job for them. They were going to end her life, punch holes in her organs and destroy everything she'd ever have and they'd do it after lazily flicking away their cigarette butts.

Garland was brought out, only half on his feet. The soldiers had apparently needed to give him another blow of the electric baton, ending his plans to fight his way to freedom. He was cuffed to the ring next to her as he slowly regained his senses.

En's heart beat hard in her chest. Be strong, she told herself. Be brave. But what did being brave matter? She was going to die, executed like a criminal and her parents would get the note from the NCR government saying she'd been convicted of murder and put to the gun. So fuck being brave, she just let the tears flow freely, doubling and trebling her view of the soldiers who were unmoved by them.

"Be strong, kid," Garland said next to her. "It'll all be over before you know it."

En couldn't reply.

"Garland Reilly and En Tessara, you've been convicted of murder in the first degree and in accordance with NCR law, you will suffer death by shooting." It was the lieutenant's voice. "The officer presiding will now hear your last words if you have any to offer. Mister Reilly?"

"Choke on a turd and die, fuckstick."

"Charming. Miss Tessara?"

En sniffed and squeezed the tears from her eyes. "I got a last request actually. Can you put the blindfold on your squad instead?"

That got a chuckle out of Garland, at least, and some of the firing squad soldiers managed a contained grin, but the lieutenant merely replied with a flat, "Denied."

"You're no fun." As far as last words went, those were pretty unremarkable, but can't always have a snarky reply ready. Apparently there were no blindfolds, because the lieutenant raised his arm and called the squad.

"Soldiers, ready?"

The guns were shouldered and En's breath stopped in her throat. Fresh tears blurred her vision. Next to her, Garland stood facing his destiny with his face grim.

"Take…_aim_!"

_Please don't let it hurt too much please don't let it hurt too much please don't let it hurt too much please don't let it hurt too much please don't let it hurt too much_

"Stand down!"

… what?

"… Sir?" the sergeant leading the firing squad asked, puzzled. He didn't lower his rifle and neither did the other soldiers.

"It would seem," the lieutenant explained grudgingly, "that these two have an alibi. The major got a message from mr. House half an hour ago, who asserts that they were with him on the evening of the murder."

Wait, _what_? Holy shit, last-minute miracles actually _did_ happen!

"You shitbitch!" Garland shouted. "What was all this god damn show for? This kid thought she was going to fucking die!"

Nice of him to stick up for her, if more than a bit patronizing. En didn't care, she was busy being overjoyed at the whole not-dying thing.

"You can uncuff them," the lieutenant told the sergeant dismissively. "I don't know how they ingratiated themselves with mr. House, but an alibi is an alibi, even though they're both guilty as Hell."

"Hey asshole, I asked you a question! What was all this fucking show for?!"

The lieutenant turned around one last time before walking in, and with a sneer, said, "There was still the resisting arrest-charge."

Garland shook his head, his face still red with anger, and muttered under his breath, "Cock knocker."

"He is," the sergeant said as he unchained En from the iron ring in the wall. "I'd stay out of his way, if I were you. Guilty or not."

"I didn't kill – " En began, but she interrupted herself and sighed. "Nevermind."

They were given their possessions back, signed for their stuff, and were shown to the door. The guy who'd been in the cell next to them stood outside the NCR post, reading a map. "What the…"

"Told ya we were innocent," En smirked, her good cheer back and then some.

"Well, so it seems," he said, still surprised. "Good to see you both alive. Lookin' down the barrel of a gun ain't fun, I know that all too well. And I know how it feels to dodge the bullet too."

"Really." Garland said, not interested.

"Yep. Got here from New Reno after some trouble with the Bishop boys. They had me cornered in their own pool hall, but I threw myself out the window and ran. Been on the run ever since."

"Why'd you get in trouble with old man Bishop?" En asked. "You'd have to be pretty stupid to piss him off."

He shrugged. "Eh. Might have had something to do with my rather critical comedy acts in the Shark club. And um… the fact that I embezzled a shitload of caps over the years…" He was quiet for a while. "And it _may_ also have something to do with the fact I kinda sorta plowed his daughter."

"His daughter?" En asked, incredulous. "You got it on with John Bishop's daughter?"

He hesitated for a moment, then straightened his back. "I sure did. And what a ride that was! She's a damn beauty, she is. Why, you know her?"

"I know _of_ her," En lied. "So you did the horizontal tango with Bishop's daughter?"

"That's right."

"With Angela, right? You banged Angela Bishop?"

"_Yes_, Angela Bishop," he insisted.

"_You_ made the beast with two backs with Angela Bishop?"

"_Yes I did_," he snapped, getting frustrated. "How many times you gonna ask that?"

"Well, hope it was fun," En said with a sneer. And then, to Garland, "Come on, let's go."

As they walked away, Garland said, "What was so weird about that guy claiming he humped some mob boss's daughter?"

En chuckled. "Because he couldn't have. Read the book I brought about how New Arroyo was founded and you'll understand. If you can pry it from Melissa's hands, at least. She's in love with the picture on the back cover."

He blinked. "Somehow your explanation makes it even more confusing."

"Heh."

"Your spirits seem to have gotten back up?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Nothing like almost getting shot and still being alive to make a girl feel chipper."

"Well, better to see you like this than blubbing your eyes out."

En made a sour face even though she couldn't tell if he simply wanted to say it was good to see her bounce back, or if he said it out of an urge to gloat. "Yeah, let's… just leave that behind us, alright?"

He nodded as they walked. "Sure, alright. Let's just get a move on and get to that bunker, shall we?"


	46. Shadow

**FORTY-SIX**

**The Strip, North Gate**

**July 12****th**

**06:04**

"Let's hope these army boys let us pass _this _time," Garland said as they approached the North Gate.

"If they aren't, we're not running, alright?"

"Heh, alright, alright," he admitted with a grin. "It was a bad idea."

"It was a _horrible_ idea."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I wonder what my friends are doing now…" En thought out loud.

"Heh. I know what _mine_ are doing," Garland said. "Cass is looking for the nearest whiskey emporium, Craig's sitting somewhere and sulking, Arcade's wasting his time with the Followers, and Roni's shacked up with that bulldyke you've got with you."

"Melissa's not a bulldyke," En told him.

"Well she looks like one."

En supposed he had a point. But still. "Well, she's awesome. And hey, aren't you and Cass a couple?"

That seemed to suddenly make him very evasive. "I don't know, _couple_…"

"Well, yeah. I've seen you kiss a few nights ago and all." She didn't add the horrid experience with the condoms in Novac she had recently realized they were probably responsible for. "Seems odd you'd talk about her like that. You know, making her out to be a drunk." Even though she _was_ obviously a drunk, it was still pretty inappropriate of him to talk about his girl that way. Or at least, En would consider it inappropriate if her boyfriend told people stuff like that about her. Her thoughts briefly wandered to New Arroyo and what Christopher would be doing. She determined she'd make her move as soon as she got home. Maybe it was the whole journey that had given her confidence, maybe it was just the time she'd had to think about it, but she decided she had nothing to lose: best to take the chance rather than let it pass.

"You can hardly call her a sober and stable person, can you?" Garland shot back, somewhat irritated.

"_I_ can't," En said, "but I know I'd be pretty damn angry if my guy told people all I did was drink. I mean, you don't have to call her a lovely flower girl from the church, but no need to call her the slum drunk either."

"I'm not 'her guy'," he grunted. "We're… it's… we've got…" He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Apparently."

He shrugged. "Grown-up stuff, kid."

Oh no, he didn't! "Oh you did _not_ just get all ageist towards me."

"What?"

"This whole 'it's for grown-ups, kid'-bullshit? You're the one sounding like a kid when you say it."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying, some things are hard to understand when you're as young as you are. I wouldn't have understood this situation at your age either."

"Hmph."

"Let's drop this, no need to argue in front of these gate guards."

Said gate guards seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing them both alive. The male, who'd gone after Garland, looked pretty pissed off, but the female had another expression on her face. As if she didn't know whether to be relieved or angry.

"Hey uh," En said, "sorry about your cheek." A faint dark blue bruise was forming below the woman's eye. She'd apparently kicked her harder than she thought. "Should have got you in the side of the neck instead, could've pretended it was a hickey and showed it off."

"It's good you're alive, kid," the soldier bit, "but that doesn't mean I have to laugh at your stupid jokes."

"You're absolutely right," En said with a smile, passing the guard as she and her colleague opened the gate, "It _is_ good I'm alive."

"Go on, get outta here."

Garland and his erstwhile pursuer had a far less verbal interaction, both of them simply glaring at each other as Garland passed. Awkward.

"You really have to antagonize everyone, don't you?" Garland asked when they were out of earshot.

En only shrugged. "They can't take a joke, it's their problem."

"I can't believe you've never gotten a beating for your smart mouth."

"… Yeah…"

She'd gotten quite a few of course, including one from his 'it's complicated', and much as she'd love to forget it, she'd been dangled above a railing by a furious lieutenant Boyd not so long ago as well.

Ah well.

They left the Strip, strolled through Freeside (En had to raise an eyebrow when she saw Garland raise his hand in greeting at a guy in a black leather Kings-jacket and get a greeting back). From there, they headed to a place called Cottonwood Cove, far to the Southeast. Something had been seriously wrong with Mr. House' intel, however, since a travelling trader they'd met had explained that the location marked on En's pip-boy map was firmly in the centre of Legion territory.

"Fuckin' Hell," Garland muttered when they continued their journey. Most of the walk had been silent apart from the strictly necessary. "Legion territory. Once again that TV-screen fucker's pulled us a good one."

"What, think he did it on purpose?"

"Heh. Of course he did. He knew we'd probably say 'no' when we heard it was in Legion territory right off the bat. But now we've already accepted his crooked deal and we're halfway there already. Fuck."

En shrugged. "Doesn't really matter in the end though? Trying not to get caught by the Legion, or trying not to get caught by the NCR… same thing."

"Except that the NCR doesn't leave people to die on a cross if they catch them."

"No, they just chain them to a wall and shoot the shit out of them."

"Good point," he had to concede. "But hey, you've been quiet this whole trip. Seems a bit uncharacteristic for someone like you?"

She supposed it was. "Yeah… I'm just missing my friends, you know?"

"The ones you met here, or back home?"

"Both." She only realized it when she said it – in the back of her (aching) head, she was still missing her New Arroyo friends. "But yeah, I mean my new friends, my Mojave friends, specifically."

"Probably feels strange travelling with just me for a while, huh?"

Holy shit if that wasn't some honest-to-God understanding. "Yeah. Yeah it does, a bit. I mean, Sunny and Ringo've been with me since Goodsprings, it's weird to leave them behind."

"M-hm."

"I assume you miss Cass too?"

He only shrugged indecisively in response. It was complicated indeed.

Night was falling, and En's pip-boy told them they were within an hour's walk of Cottonwood Cove. From there, they had to cross the river somehow, into Legion territory, and then find that hidden bunker, having only the coordinates to go on. Which meant they'd have to walk with their eyes on the pip-boy. Not exactly the best way not to get discovered…

Still, under cover of night, it would probably be manageable. From what she'd heard of the Legion, they were a bunch of half-brained duffers anyway. Wouldn't take much to pull the wool over their eyes. The odds were probably decent, it was just… those stakes, man. Those _stakes_.

"We can take a quick rest and then go on, or get it all over with right now," Garland told her when they sat at the burned-out campfire of another group of travellers, now long gone. He took an energy bar out of his pack and tossed her one too.

Peeling the wrapper off the bar, En said, "Best if we do it now. If we have to swim, I'd like the water to be a little bit less on the icy side."

"Good thinking. I don't feel like fighting the Legion armed with razor-sharp nipples." He got up. "Let's go."

En rose too, slapping the dust off her butt, but Garland stopped her when she shrugged her rifle over her shoulder.

"Just a sec."

"Mm?"

He put down his backpack and pulled out a long stretch of strange, shiny-looking fabric, then tossed it to her. She caught it, even though she had no idea what it was. Unfurling it, she realized it was a body suit… but it was made of a strange material, like smooth, polished, flexible hexagons that softly reflected the light with a weird, rainbow-coloured matte shine. On the back was a hardened plate with a few wires coming out of it and going into the suit, and there were flexible reinforcements in the knees, elbows, chest and groin area, with boots built-in. What the Hell was this? "Garland, what the Hell is this thing?"

"Cass and I got it from a trader we saved from a cazador attack. Said he got it from a traveller that had supposedly gone to a place called the Big Empty."

"That… doesn't answer my question," En said absently, fascinated by the strange fabric, that felt like supple plastic, but with a matte texture.

"He said it's a stealth suit. It doesn't fit me, obviously, because it's female, and Cass, well… Cass stopped being interested the moment she found out it doesn't come with a whiskey dispenser."

"And um… is this safe to put on?"

He shrugged. "Try it, we'll know, right?"

She tore her eyes away from the suit and looked back at him. "Garland… why am I even holding this? This is your group's stuff."

"We can't use it. Go on, put it on."

"Not for keeps though right? I mean, this is like… priceless technology?"

He shrugged. "If it even works. And like I said, I can't use it. You can keep it as long as you need. We'll see what we do with it when we part ways."

As much as was suspicious of accepting gifts from a man who'd made no secret of it that he wanted her platinum chip, her eagerness to try out this strange tech won out. "Alright, I… guess I can't pass up this chance." She held the suit up in front of her. Looked to be her size, around and about. "But if this thing explodes or crushes me until my eyeballs fly up into space, I will eat your babies, got it?"

He nodded. "I'll take that chance."

They both stood there for a moment, in silence, until En finally said. "I'm not changing while you look."

"Well, it's not like I haven't seen y – "

She jabbed a finger at him. "Shh! Don't." When she was convinced he wouldn't try to finish the sentence, she twirled her finger and said, "turn around."

With a roll of his eyes, he did so, and En kicked off her boots, threw off her jacket and T-shirt and stepped out of her pants, then put the suit on. It was a bit loose, but it was wearable. The inside felt like soft, warm lining even though it was terribly thin. This was awesome tech. But why it was called Stealth Suit, she didn't know. Not like she was actually stealthy, if nicely alien-looking. The suit had a hood hanging down the back, but En didn't pull it over her head just yet. She closed the front with the velcro strips provided. Heh, good old velcro. Technology might have advanced, it still hadn't thought up something to beat the awesome ingeniousness of velcro.

"I assume I can turn around?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure. So, what'd you think?"

He eyed her, stroking his chin. "You don't look particularly stealthy…"

"I know, right? What a rip-off."

It was then she noticed the little earwig that came out of the suit's neck-line. "Wonder if this does anything," she mumbled, putting it in.

"HELLO."

"Wah!" she yelped, startled by the sudden greeting of the computerized female voice.

"What, what?" Garland asked, stepping over to her and looking worried.

"Nothing, nothing," she assured him. "This voice made me jump."

"Voice?"

"Yeah," she pointed at her ear. "In the earwig."

Garland tilted his head so he could see the little device in En's ear. "Huh. So what's it say? Something pre-recorded?"

"I… don't know."

"DO I FIT?"

Stunned, she looked at Garland and stammered, "It… it asked me if it fit."

"Hunh? It asked you? As in, of its own accord?"

"Yeah, it totally did."

Garland's face was still slack with wonderment. "Try answering it?"

"Answering it?"

"Yeah, you know. Tell it if it fits or not."

Even though En found the idea of talking to a piece of tech ridiculous, she humoured him and said to the evening air, "It's a bit loose in the hips and the boobs and the belly."

Promptly, the suit tightened with a soft _zzzzzp_-sound, hugging her more tightly. Garland's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets, and she realized she probably looked the same.

"BETTER?" The voice had a friendly tone though it was flat, artificial, as digitized voices always were, but it wasn't pre-recorded. No way.

"… a little more?" En asked, still flabbergasted.

Another soft _zzzzp_ and the suit tightened even further. "Hooh! This is a bit much," En wheezed as the suit constricted her in the chest and made breathing almost impossible. The suit immediately loosened a bit, and this time it fit like a glove. "That's it, perfect."

"STORING MEASUREMENTS."

"It still talking?" Garland asked, looking up and down the stealth suit. It was a bit uncomfortable, his eyes going over her with the suit hugging her so tightly, but she didn't think he was noticing her form at all.

"Yeah."

"HI. ARE YOU MY NEW OWNER?"

"I uh… I am for now," En stammered. "Um… what are you, exactly?"

The voice answered, sounding as if it was stating the obvious. "I AM A STEALTH SUIT." With a hint of pride, or at least a simulation of it, it added, "MARK TWO."

"Yeah, no, I mean, why do you talk?"

Immediately, the computer voice took on a nervous edge. "WOULD YOU RATHER I DIDN'T?"

God damn this was one of the most advanced AI's En had ever interacted with. With most programmes you could easily hear the AI was working from a certain programming, usually lacking creativity or a convincing speech patter, but this one was flawless. It almost felt like talking to a real person with her voice scrambled. Almost. "No, no, it's fine, it's just… I hadn't expected you to talk."

"ALL MARK TWO STEALTH SUITS HAVE SPEECH MODULES."

"So it seems."

Garland was still following half of the conversation, his face gone from slack-jawed to intrigued.

"IF YOU HAVE STIMPAKS OR MED-X, PLEASE INSERT THEM INTO THE PROVIDED SLOT." In the upper arm of the stealth suit, a small lid slid up, making a slit that led to a pocket in the suit.

"I… don't have any handy right now."

"THEN YOU CAN'T INSERT ANY," the suit said, sounding amused. The lid closed again.

"So um… how does this suit work?"

"LUMINAFRACT METAMATERIAL PLATES REFRACT AND BEND LIGHT, CAUSING THE WEARER – "

"No, no, I mean, how do I turn you on?"

"JUST ASK ME."

"Okay, um… can you turn on?"

"STEALTH MODE ENGAGED." There was a quiet buzz, and suddenly En's body became transparent. Wait, no, not transparent, she realized when she looked down on it. It was as if the light rippled around her form, making her look like a transparent bubble that distorted the light where her body was, but made her very hard to spot. "Holy crap," she breathed, and from Garland's face, she saw he was thinking the same thing.

"I AM ONLY PARTIALLY EFFECTIVE WITHOUT THE HOOD," the voice pointed out, sounding like it was _this_ close to adding a "Duh!"

"Oh, right, right." En pulled the hood over her head, and a mask fit snugly over her face, allowing her to see through some sort of visor. "Can you still see me, Garland?"

"I uh… if I didn't know you were there, probably not. I mean, I can see the light bend around you because I'm looking straight at you, but if I wasn't, I probably wouldn't notice. Shit, this is amazing."

"IT'S NOTHING SPECIAL," the suit said with clearly false modesty.

"Uh… how long can you stay in this mode?" En asked.

"BATTERIES WEAKEN AFTER THREE AND A HALF MINUTES, RESULTING IN LESS EFFECTIVE AND INTERMITTENT CLOAKING FIELD. BATTERIES ARE DRAINED IN FOUR AND A HALF MINUTES."

Shit, that wasn't a long time by any means. And batteries for this thing were probably really hard to find. "Damn, okay, turn off then, I'm wasting batteries."

The suit did as it was told, becoming visible again. "MY BATTERIES RECHARGE AT THE RATE OF A HALF HOUR PER MINUTE OF CLOAKING. ACTUAL RECHARGE TIMES MAY VARY."

Ah, good. That was a relief. But holy crap this was amazing!

"DO YOU… FIND ME USEFUL?" the suit asked, sounding anxious to hear her answer. And again, completely convincingly.

"Uh, yeah, of course I find you useful."

There was a short pause and then the suit said, relieved, "I'M GLAD TO HEAR THAT."

"Can I wear you under my clothes?"

"YES, OF COURSE."

"But I mean, can I still use the cloaking field then?"

The suit sounded embarrassed to admit, "NO. CLOAKING REQUIRES METAMATERIAL LUMINAFRACT PLATES TO BE UNCOVERED."

"Aw. Well, it's still crazy awesome!" She threw the hood and mask back off her face.

"SO YOU'LL KEEP ME?" Again the voice sounded anxious to hear the answer.

"I don't decide that, but yeah, for the time being, definitely."

"Um, you two?" Garland asked impatiently, "I'm feeling kinda left out here?"

"REROUT AUDIO TO SPEAKER?" the voice in En's earwig asked.

"Sure?"

"HELLO." This time the sound didn't come out of her earwig, but out of a tiny speaker set into the suit's right shoulder.

"Uh, hi," Garland greeted back.

"So um, what's your name?" En asked, surprising herself that she wanted to know. Usually, she didn't like robots and AI's much. But she figured, if she'd speak to the thing, might as well ask its name so she'd have something to call it by.

"NAME?"

"Yeah, what do we call you?"

"I HAVE ONLY A DESIGNATION: STEL-02-797204."

"No name?" En asked.

"NO." It sounded a bit sad to say it.

"Will Stel work as name?" Garland asked it, still gingerly.

"YES, IT WILL."

"Well, there ya go," En cheered. "Stel it is."

"OKAY." It sounded a bit unaccustomed to having a name, but it seemed to like it.

"This thing will work wonders for sneaking into that bunker," Garland told her. "It's almost gonna be too easy."

"Wait a minute," En said, picking up the rest of her forgotten energy bar. "If I have a stealth suit and you don't, that puts you in a comfy position, doesn't it?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Kinda."

She popped the rest of the bar in her mouth, and munching, she rolled the wrapper into a ball and threw it against Garland's chest. "Bastardo."

"Let's not forget who's getting to use the awesome stealth suit, please?" Garland pointed out with a grin. "And for free!"

"Lot of good that'll do me when I'm hanging from a cross."

"MY CLOAKING EFFECT GRANTS YOU PARTIAL INVISIBILITY IN WELL-LIT LOCATIONS AND ALMOST COMPLETE INVISIBILITY IN DARK AREAS," the stealth suit informed them.

"Uh… yeah," En said. "Still a risk. You're safe to wear in the water, right?"

"OF COURSE."

Garland threw his backpack on. "Let's roll. I'll swim across with you, in case you get into trouble, but I'll stay a bit away from that bunker, it's sure to be guarded."

"Garland?"

"Mm?"

En dreaded to admit it, but Ringo had hammered the point home that being unpredictable and unreliable was bad enough, but trying to act as if nothing was wrong was even worse. "I'm uh… kinda scared."

She half expected him to go on another condescending rant, but thankfully, he just stopped, looked at her with his thumbs hooked into his backpack straps, and said, "That's okay. So am I."

"I mean, I've seen those crucified people at Nipton, and… the thought of ending up that way just makes me… scared shitless."

"I know," he said. "It's not something that's high on my to-do list either, but either we do this, or we'll have this murder charge hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives. And just going home won't work. That House bastard won't mind dropping a few messages to the NCR near my place. Or New Arroyo."

"I know," En sighed. "Between a rock and a hard place, right?"

He stepped over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll die before I let them get their hands on you, kid. And that's a promise."

Still a bit condescending, but En felt she was gradually getting to see his other side. "Alright. Let's go."

He gave a curt nod, turned, and began walking, and En followed.


	47. Silence and Motion

**FORTY-SEVEN**

**Near Cottonwood Cove**

**July 12****th**

**19:51**

"We need to be quiet from here on out. Cottonwood Cove is in the valley behind those hills. And see those lights?"

En nodded.

"That's the Fort."

En peered into the darkness. "Seems to be a way around it if we keep to the east side of the shore, there."

"What I'm thinking too. Let's hope we estimated the distance correctly, and the bunker's actually behind that fort instead if smack in the middle of it."

"Shit, yeah. Because I'm not gonna try and sneak into that place. Not with a thousand stealth suits and not with the promise of a hundred thousand crates of twinkies."

"Wouldn't be able to do much with that much twinkies," Garland pointed out. "Because believe it or not, twinkies _do_ have an expiration date."

"You know what I mean." She sighed. "Y'know, maybe if we get caught, we can tell them the NCR's after us because we're like, stone cold killers. Might make an impression?"

"_I_ could try, but not you. They're not fond of women, no matter how hardass." His eyes briefly went to her. "Or how blowhard."

She slapped his shoulder. "Asshole."

"No, but seriously. Keep your pistol handy. You get caught and can't shoot your way out, keep one bullet for yourself. Trust me."

"Um, are you enjoying this? Trying to unnerve me and stuff."

"No, no. I'm just saying."

"Well stop just saying. Or put some brown pants on."

He chuckled. "Alright, let's go." He took off his boots, pants, shirt and jacket and stuffed them in a plastic bag. "I saw this on some old survival show. I'm not sure how trustworthy the guy was though, he spoke in a funny accent and drank his own piss."

En's stealth suit repelled water so she could just let herself slide gracefully in the water without any problem. She'd hidden her leather under a big rock a few hundred metres farther. And she hated to admit it, but the guy looked pretty rawr under his trench coat and such. He was athletically built with not a gram of fat. Not a huge brick of muscle, like that one Pre-War actor, what was his name, Arnold Braunschweiger or something, but he was more than muscled enough. But as pleasing as En found it aesthetically, it didn't do anything for her in any other sense. None of the groin-heat or the desire to jump his bones like the other girls said they felt when they saw an attractive man. It just… wasn't there.

He dipped his toe in the water and went, "Mm. Not too cold yet."

"As if that is our biggest concern."

"Actually, getting hypothermia now would be pretty dangerous. But it's alright." He let himself quietly go into the water and then said, "Come on in, the water's great."

"Hey. Lame jokes at bad times are my thing."

"Just get into the water."

She did so, and the cold of the water immediately made itself be felt through her suit. Promptly, the digitized voice in her ear announced, "ACTIVATING HEATING SYSTEM."

A pleasant warmth crept out from the back plate to envelop her body. Hmm this was nice. She briefly thought about telling Garland, but then decided against it. The less of the suit's awesomeness he knew, the less inclined he'd be to want it back after their time together.

"Not too cold?" he asked as he quietly glided through the water.

"It's... not too bad," she lied.

He nodded gravely. "Atta girl."

Ha ha, sucker.

They both quietly reached the other side. "Careful," Garland said. "Getting out of water is much more noisy than getting in." Slowly, he lifted himself out of the water, holding on to an overhanging branch. Shit, it was serious now. If they got caught, well... she'd probably wish she was back against the NCR wall in Vegas. Her stomach knotted and she closed her eyes to take a breath.

"Come on," she heard Garland say, opening her eyes to see him sitting on the bank, his arm outstretched.

"I'm good," she whispered, then got herself out of the water the same way he had. It was a bit less quiet, but still not loud enough to actually be heard more than a few metres away.

The spot Garland had picked to go ashore wasn't too bad. They were well-hidden behind a low rock wall, and peering over, they could see the palisade of the Fort, only twenty metres or so away. Lights danced all along the wall, torches set at intervals. Good. Torches didn't project much light, but they could be seen very far away. If their patrols also carried them, that's make it a lot easier. The Fort itself looked scarily big, and the sounds of voices could be heard inside the palisade. There seemed to be some kind of celebration going on, because there was music too, a kind of metallic string instrument being played. Occasionally, bouts of laughter roared up into the night sky.

"Sounds like they're having fun," Garland whispered.

"Mm."

A scream tore through the merry sounds, and then another, cut short and turning into a gurgle. The laughter returned, doubled in intensity. Lovely.

En took a look at her Pip-boy, more to get her mind off what was happening than to actually verify their position, and Garland, his face almost indiscernible in the darkness, said," Come on, kid. Less time we have to spend here, the better."

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and said, "Yeah. I know." She pulled the hood and mask over her head, then held out her hand. "Your platinum card? I promise I'll give it back."

He grudgingly laid it in her palm.

"Don't know if I'll need it but – "

He sounded impatient. "Get going."

She held in a remark about what an asshole he was for letting her do all the work, and began creeping, slowly stalking up the hill, the palisade west of her sloping along with the incline.

"Mortus erat ante noscebat, et caput caedebat sic melopepo puter." A hard and cruel laugh followed. Shit! En flinched and ducked away behind a large bush, just in time to hide from the three-man patrol cresting the hill in front of her.

"Caesar isn't here to give brownie points. Speak English, asshole."

"Futue te ipsum, lupae filius," the one who'd spoke first snapped.

"Stupid motherfucker." Their path would take them right past her.

En stayed in the bushes and quietly whispered, "Stel, turn on."

"STEALTH MODE ENGAGED."

A faint sensation of pinpricks ran over En and she looked down at herself to see she was invisible – or at least very close to it. She quickly lowered her pip-boy so it was covered by the undergrowth. The bickering patrol walked past her, only a metre or two away. They walked too slow for En's liking, and she had to stay hidden for at least a minute until she could tell her suit to de-cloak. Two and a half minutes left. "Okay, turn off."

With the patrol gone, she crept forward. It was hard to see, the night was pitch black and the torches on the palisade of the Fort didn't help much. Several times, she nearly tripped over an obstacle, her stumbles making little noises that sounded like a cannonade in her ears. "ARE YOU HAVING TROUBLE FINDING YOUR WAY?"

"Yeah, kinda," she whispered. She thought to herself it'd be nice to have her night vision monocle right now.

There was a soft whine that ascended in pitch and then stopped, and suddenly, En's vision lit up in sepia tones. "LOW LIGHT MODE ENGAGED."

"Does this drain batteries?"

"A BIT."

She checked her pip-boy. Close now. No more than fifteen metres. She sneaked forward but there were no more patrols, and she reached the marker on her pip-boy map. "Disengage low light mode."

"DONE."

She was kneeling in front of a heavy steel hatch set at an angle into the ground. It bore marks of entry attempts: several scratches and nicks from crowbars and other levers, a few shallow pits from blows dealt to it, and even a blackened blast mark, clearly made by explosives. The hatch hadn't budged however. En quickly looked over her shoulder, then brushed the weeds away from the keypad which lay half-buried in the sand. Holding her breath, she punched in the code Mr. House had given them. 2020.

There was a hissing release of a pneumatic system, and with a loud creaking, the hatch swung open, both the doors coming down with a hard _blang_. En winced with every sound, looking behind her, her fists balled in the hope that none of the Legionaries had heard. After a few seconds, she didn't notice any commotion and breathed a sigh of relief.

Carefully, she sneaked down the stairs, the stale air making her breath stall. The stairwell went down several storeys, leading her down a steel shaft, the toes of the stealth suit making soft tinks on the metal as she tiptoed. As she went deeper, it got darker until at the lowest level, soft white emergency lighting blinked on. She briefly looked up at the open hatch and the night sky, hoping no Legionaries came by while that damn hatch was open. Then she turned to the double blast doors in front of her. The only way to open it, as far as she could see, was a big red mushroom button. She reached out, checked, then pushed it.

The blast doors swerved open, revealing the bunker's inner chamber. Several red LEDs blinked, and set into the steel walls were several compartments, their doors made of extremely thick glass that looked like it could withstand even a mortar shell. In the middle of every door, there was a blinking LED, and below the little lights, a receptacle of some sort. There were seven in all.

En went past the walls, looking through the glass to see what the compartments contained. One had three massive thick-barrelled assault rifles, the likes of which she'd never seen. Another held tons and tons of caps. There was one with a small, fat rocket-looking thing with a red-painted head, one with only a small remote control inside, one that held a large robot with three wheeled legs, a gatling gun on one arm and a rocket launcher on the other, one with a suit of power armour, and one that held nothing but a little plastic holo card.

The receptacles were different for every compartment. One was shaped like a cube, one like a little ball, one like a revolver cylinder, one like a small rectangle, one like a small circle, one was a T-shaped depression, and one like a many-spoked wheel. Inside every depression were several copper-coloured electronic contacts.

Wait a minute.

The rectangular and circular depressions were shapes she recognized. En held up the platinum playing card and the platinum chip. Holy shit they were the right size. So these things were keys! Electronic keys! God dammit now she realized why the platinum was nowhere near the reason people killed each other over these things! It made sense. A playing card, a poker chip... it became clear what the other depressions stood for now. The cube would probably fit a die, the little ball was probably a roulette ball, and the many-spoked circle was made to fit a roulette wheel. The revolver cylinder was obvious. Russian roulette. The T-shaped thing didn't make sense right away, but then it hit her. It was a god damn rake. Seven platinum items but only two had been recovered. Where had Benny stashed the rest? Had they even made it to him?

Shit, plenty of time to figure that out later. Licking her dry lips, En held up the playing card to the rectangular depression. Praying it wouldn't set off a bomb or a cone of gas or a disintegration beam or an arrow with a magic missile-enchantment set by goblin sappers, she clicked the card into the depression. There was a soft _beep_ and the red LED turned green. The heavy glass door slid open vertically, and the three-legged robot rolled out.

"SERVE AND PROTECT," the thing merely said.

"Yeah," En mumbled quietly. "Good luck getting up those stairs."

She only had one more key, her own. The platinum chip. Holding the little thing between her two trembling gloved fingers, she looked at the blinking red LED, then clicked the chip into its slot.

No door slid open this time, instead, the holo card was pulled into the steel wall so it almost touched the chip through the wall. A line of LEDs slowly lit up, first one, then two, slowly filling all the way to ten. When the line was full, there was another soft beep and the holo card abruptly melted into slag.

En hoped that had supposed to happen. Some kind of data transfer, probably. Whatever had been on that holo card was now on the chip. That made the playing card worthless, but the chip possibly immeasurably valuable. This was what House wanted, what he'd trade both their freedoms for. The rest was just consolation prizes.

She clicked both keys out of their slots and slid them into the stealth suit's compartment. Then she resolved to make tracks, whether that bot followed her or not.

Above the now-melted data card's compartment, a screen lit up, kindly informing her that the bunker's self-destruct sequence had been initiated upon downloading of key data, and that she had ten minutes to clear the facility. She _definitely_ had to make tracks.

She zipped back out the door and lightly ran up the stairs. When she was halfway, she saw the bot rolling its back against the wall, and two hooks grappled it below the 'shoulders', a chain system pulling it up.

Huh. Clever.

Bounding up the rest of the stairs, she emerged back into the night air... and smack in front of the Legionary patrol that had passed her earlier. They were fifteen metres away, but looking right at her.

"Non move! Quo vadis?" one shouted, but the others didn't bother with questions, unslinging their lever-action rifles and bringing them to bear.

"THREAT DETECTED."

"Shit! Stel, turn on!"

"STEALTH MODE T – " the rest was lost in the bangs of rifle fire as En dived to the side and the bullets impacted the opened hatch, cutting through the place she'd occupied only instants ago. She landed hard on her side, but in the dark, she was all but invisible. Yet as she scrambled to her feet, puffs of dust came up.

"Ibi est! She's got a stealth boy! Shoot her!"

Three more bangs sounded, and again En only barely got out of the way, rolling further to the side. But now her momentum was lost, and by the time she'd be able to push herself off the ground again, it'd be too late. En's eyes screwed themselves closed as she waited for the bullets to rip through her.

"HOSTILE TARGETS ENGAGED." This voice was also robotic, but deep and male.

She heard a _whoosh_ passing over her, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw a flaming projectile leave a trail of smoke, going right at the patrol. One managed to dive out of the way, shouting "RPG!", but the two other Legionaries were blown apart where they stood, annihilated in a blinding, deafening explosion. The third got up, deafened and disoriented, swaying on his feet. Somehow, he managed to lift his rifle and fire from the hip, the bullet striking the three-legged robot in the chest plate.

"PACIFYING TARGETS."

Now the combat robot raised its gatling arm and with a deafening roar, it spat out a flurry of bullets, cutting the Legionary to shreds, chunks of tissue, bone and organ ripped away and flying through the air.

From the Fort came cries of alarm, and En saw several torches of patrol squads speed toward them. Shit, she had to go!

Still cloaked, she jumped to her feet and began sprinting for the river, the robot rolling along. She ran down the hill to where Garland was waiting, but a five-man patrol cut her off.

"THREAT DETECTED."

_I know, suit, shut up!_

"There!" one Legionary shouted. "Stealth cloak! Shoot! Shoot!"

En drew the Beretta from the stealth suit's integrated holster and fired three times, the muzzle flashes giving her position away definitively. She missed two shots, but the third struck the leading patrolman in the forehead, blowing out his brains. A flash came from the water, and Garland nailed one from the considerable distance of the riverbank (in his undies), shooting him through the spine. The three others were smarter, taking cover and shouldering their rifles. They couldn't miss her at this distance, but they didn't know what was rolling merrily behind her.

"HOSTILE TARGETS ENGAGED."

Another rocket whooshed past En and two Legionaries were obliterated, along with the fallen tree trunk they'd been hiding behind. The last suffered the fate of his partner in the other group, cut apart by gatling gun fire.

"Ha-_ha_!" En shouted. "Don't screw with a girl and her bot, _suckas_!"

"BATTERIES FAILING, CLOAKING FIELD UNRELIABLE."

Fuck, time to split! As she broke into a sprint for the riverbank, she heard the combat robot announce another "HOSTILE TARGETS ENGAGED" and roll away, heading towards the Fort to confront the Legionaries sallying out of the gate to join the fracas. Good, that bot would keep them busy for a while before they could take it down, and hopefully, it'd blow a good number of crucifying, slave-driving, raping, murdering scum to bits.

Her cloaking field flickering and waving, she ran for the riverbank, stuffed the Beretta back into its holster and rejoined Garland.

"What the fuck?" he breathed, but she just said, "Come on, we gotta go before that bot explodes in a shower of sparks."

Garland complied, still looking dumbstruck, and they swam to the other side of the river, taking care to stay underwater as long as they could. A bullet struck the water and lazily coasted past En's face, but she had to hope that was just a stray, and that they were still undetected.

No bullets flew their way as they crawled up on the other bank, and they darted away from Cottonwood Cove, where shouts of alarm could also be heard. They ran for several minutes, Garland on his bare feet but not giving a peep, and only after they were a safe distance away, back where they'd stashed their guns and packs, did they stop and catch their breath, doubled over with their hands on their knees.

"Huh... holy sh... shit," En panted. "That was int... intense."

The sound of gunshots had stopped long ago. Even a badass bot hadn't lasted long against the entire Legion garrison.

"Damn, you need... need to... explain what... the Hell that was."

"Uh huh. I will, but p... put some clothes... on first."

"Yuh... Yeah, I'm getting s... seriously cuh... cold."

"Uh huh." She grinned and nudged her chin at the front of his boxers. "I can s... see that."

His face red and a mixture of embarrassment and anger, Garland ripped the plastic bag containing his clothes and tore out his jeans, pulling them on.

"DID I DO ALRIGHT?"

Surprised, En told the suit, "Uh... yeah, you were fine."

Garland looked up at her while buttoning his jeans. "_What_?"

"Nothing, nothing."

As he got dressed, En explained the whole thing to him, the bunker, the treasures behind the heavy glass doors, and the items needed to unlock them. His interest was briefly piqued when she mentioned the other valuables locked away, but it immediately faded when she told him about the self-destruct system that had activated when she'd transferred the data onto the platinum chip.

Garland shrugged on his trench coat and thought for a moment. "So that chip was a data carrier, huh? Guess we should have seen that one coming. Think Benny knew what it was?"

She shook her head. "Pretty sure he didn't. I mean, he didn't seem to know it was worthless the way it was... right?"

Garland looked away. "Suppose so."

A strange feeling struck her. He knew something. Something she didn't, and something he didn't want her to know. "Garland?"

His eyes snapped back to her. "Mm?"

"There something you're not telling me? And I don't mean a secret preference for freaky sex or an embarrassing adoration of ponycorns."

"What the fuck is a ponycorn?"

"A cross between- ... ugh, never mind _that_. What aren't you telling me?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?" He looked sincere enough, but she wasn't convinced.

"I have a feeling you're hiding something."

He stood glaring at her and put his hands in his sides. "I just gave you a god damn technological marvel, I helped you get _your_ chip written while getting nothing in return for my card, I protected your ass wearing nothing more than a soaked pair of boxers, and _this_ is what I get? God damn mistrust?"

En was determined to look completely unimpressed. "That's very dramatic, but don't get your soaked boxers in a bunch. I was just asking."

He stomped off back in the direction of New Vegas. "Yeah, well, I appreciate the fucking trust."

En rolled her eyes and skipped after him. "Geez, what is this? A soap opera? Come on, don't be such a drama whore."

"Shut up and walk, kid."

Shaking her head, En went after him.

They walked in silence for a while, until En finally said the to the guy walking in front of her, "Yo, say something, captain grouchy bear."

Garland let out a grunting sigh, slumped a bit, then straightened and kept walking.

En kept quiet for a bit longer, but not much. "Boxers still wet?"

"_Yes_."

"Well, mister soggy-crotch, stop being an old curmudgeon, we gotta make camp. It's one in the morning already. Legion's not gonna find us here."

Still not looking back at her, Garland stopped, scanned the area, and pointed to a bunch of rocks. "Little cove there. Sheltered and hidden."

"Sure, let's go."

Without a word, Garland trudged to the cluster of rocks, En in tow. "Hey, you gonna quit moping or what, you big baby?"

He threw his pack on the ground and began untying the string around his bedroll.

"Pff," En blew. "You know right now, we look like we're married, don't you?"

Still silent, Garland rolled out his sleeping bag and dug his toothbrush from his pack.

"Hey, knock it off already. I'm pretty sure House just wants that chip, and he'll cut us loose if we give it to him."

"So let's give it to him and then part ways."

"Sure, if you want."

"Yeah."

"Hey grumpy cat, _seriously._ Huff some nitrous oxide, or think of a funny joke, or put a ripe banana right into your favourite ear or something because I am _not_ hiking all the way back with The Great Sulky, King of mount Cantankerous!"

She'd managed to annoy him into responding this time. He turned around and snapped, "Look at it from my side, huh? How would you feel if you took someone under your wing, gave them some great tech for free and helped them get what they need, and then they start suspecting you of being a liar? Hm?"

"Like I said, I was just asking. I just got a weird vibe." She wanted to ask him exactly how he'd taken her 'under his wing' apart from tagging along, but she swallowed it. "It's not like I'm accusing you of anything."

"Well it sure sounded that way."

She let her pack fall to the ground and pulled her bedroll out of it. "Oh, get over yourself. Come on, we've both been under stress lately, let's just let this go, k?"

He stood there for a moment, looking at his bedroll as if there was an answer on it, and then sighed and said, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. No point pulling each other's hair out."

"Glad you agree. So, what happens now? We sing boy scouts songs while you strum out of key on a guitar?"

That got a little chuckle out of him. "I think I'm as lousy on the guitar as I am sewing quilts."

"Aw shit and I was hoping you'd make me one!"

He pulled a few branches off an old dead tree and said, "I could, if you like them looking like they were savaged by Pennywise the clown."

"Gah, did you have to remind me of that just before bed time?"

He grinned, tossing her a can, and then a can opener. "Shut up and open that."

"Tch. I'm a girl so I have to do the cooking. Typical."

"You gonna be burning your bra next?"

"_As if_... though maybe my socks because I don't think I'll ever get the smell out of them."

Garland went to his knees and lit the old newspaper he'd crumpled up under the pyramid of wood. "Well, nice fire will keep us a bit warm through the night."

"Uh huh. You're sleeping between me and it though. I roll around quite a bit in my sleep, and well... these sleeping bags burn like paper. Well, if paper melted and bubbled into skin."

"Yeah, sure."

En wrested open the can and found a nice forked stick to clamp it in for easy over-the-fire-hanging. Beans in tomato sauce. Not exactly a gourmet dinner, but to be honest, she was glad the guy had brought enough food.

It took a while for the can to get suitably heated, so they chewed the fat a bit, En talking about back home and her parents, about Cassidy's bar and Allison and then slowly progressing to the beginning of her journey in the Mojave, how she got to know Sunny and Ringo, and then Melissa (she kept the story limited to the encounter at Sloane and left out the whole she-shot-me bit), and then Meyers and Leza, until she got to the present. Garland told his story to her too, and they both alternated in the telling, so they told the stories more or less chronologically congruent.

"Wait, hold on," En interrupted him somewhere in the middle. "You say you picked up an eyebot in Primm?"

"Uh huh," he said, poking the fire with a stick. "Old geezer said someone had patched it up but didn't have a battery, so they left it. I happened to have a fission battery from a train wreck I'd come across with Cass, so I just popped it in."

"Haha, holy shit," En laughed. "_I_ fixed that eyebot!"

He looked at her, grinning incredulously. "Get the fuck outta here."

"No, no, I shit you not. It was shot, huh? Licence plates on both sides? And the battery had melted because old Johnson Nash had tried to tinker with it himself, right?"

That seemed to convince him. "Yeah. Yeah it had."

"See? Told ya. So did you get it to work?"

"M-hm," he nodded enthusiastically. "At least for a while. Then something shorted out and it borked again."

"Oh... Still have it?"

"Yeah, it's in our room at the hotel. Lying there, busted."

"I'll take a look if you want me to."

"Sure, yeah, that'd be cool."

"_So_, anyway, you passed through Primm, then what?"

The story went on, the narration hopping between En and Garland, until both had finished.

"Hey um, I know I have a smart mouth, but uh... I'm sorry about your brother."

Garland threw the empty can in the fire, his eyes on the dying flames. "Yeah." He was silent for a moment. "He didn't even have to kill him. But he just... did it anyway."

"I know. Same with me."

He shook his head to clear the memories away. "Anyway, let's get some sleep. It's getting really late and I'd like to be home by tomorrow. What time is it?"

"Shit," En said, looking at her pip-boy. "Past three already."

"Heh, whoops."

"It's too late for you, but I still need my beauty sleep."

"Still hoping it'll work for you, huh?"

"Jealous I can still hope?"

"Heh. Brat."

She hoped he'd been joking, but didn't feel like asking, because who cares what he thought anyway. She brushed her teeth and watched Garland do the same. "Sho," she asked, her mouth full of toothpaste, "what happensh when we return the chip?"

"I'unno."

She spat out a glob of toothpaste, watching it splat into the sand. "I mean, we all go back home, or what?" She had mixed feelings about it. Part of her wanted to go home and see her folks again, but if she did, it meant saying goodbye to this life forever. So she realized she should kinda enjoy it while it lasted. Though, 'enjoy it'... she'd _killed_ people. Bad people, rotten people, but she'd _killed_ them nonetheless. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that the backlash of that was still to come, when things were calmer and she had time to think and de-stress. She'd seen more than one member of New Arroyo's exploration team come back shaken and changed because they'd killed someone or been part of a battle. Even 'only' getting shot at made people fall apart once they were back home and it all had time to sink in.

Then again, there was no turning back anymore. What's done was done, and killing five Legionaries or six, it was all the same. She assured herself she'd be alright with it, even after it had sunk in, because the people they'd killed had been bad people. Hell, they'd even let those Vipers off with a beating, and they were of seriously questionable morals. The ones they'd killed had truly been _bad_. Legionaries, Powder Gangers. Bad guys.

"I'm not going home just yet. Got a few more things to take care of here."

Again the feeling crept up on En that he was hiding something. This time she didn't say anything however, because she really didn't feel like more drama. "Oh."

"But yeah, I'll see what my friends say, I guess."

"And Cass? Any chance of – "

"I don't know, kid. I really don't know."

En shrugged, rinsing her toothbrush. "Not really my business anyway."

"It's not that. I just don't know what to say."

"Mm." She kicked off her boots and crawled into her sleeping bag, stealth suit and all. "Welp, sleep time. G'night."

"Uh huh, night." Garland stepped over the smouldering campfire and got into his sleeping bag, right next to her. "If you're gonna roll into the fire, try not to kick or elbow me, okay?"

"Heh. I'll be careful." With that, she turned to her side, facing away from him.

They fell quiet and En closed her eyes, thinking about home and how she wanted to go back, and at the same time, stay here and keep having the biggest adventure she'd probably have in her lifetime. She wondered what everyone was doing at the time, how things were in New Arroyo, what kind of gossip was going around, what kind of –

A fingernail gently brushed against the nape of her neck, slowly going down from the base of her skull, down her neck and to the lining of the stealth suit at the top of her spine. Oh, no, was this really happening?

"Garland," she whispered quietly. "What are you doing?"

There was no response, but the fingernail disappeared, replaced by fingertips brushing over the fabric of the stealth suit covering her shoulder. The fingertips became a hand, going across her shoulder blades. Oh, _come on_. This guy wasn't honestly trying, or hoping, or thinking there was _any_ chance of...

"Garland. No."

The hand stopped, but didn't pull away.

En rolled her eyes at the rock in front of her. "Look," she said, still not turning around. "It's me, that bratty teenager. We don't like each other. It's dark now, and you can't see my face. If you could, you'd realize it's _me_ you're trying to get funky with and you'd probably have to struggle to keep the barf in."

"Maybe if..."

"No," she said, gently but firmly. "You'll see Cass tomorrow. Look forward to that, okay?"

There was a frustrated grunting sigh, and the sound of Garland rolling on his back. "Yeah. Guess you're right."

"I'm always right. That's one of the reasons you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"You just don't like me."

"... No. Not really. Not yet."

"Then having sex with me would be the worst possible thing to do, wouldn't it?"

"I don't have to like someone to want to have sex with them."

"You don't want to have sex with _me_. You're alone, in a cold, dark night and there's a female next to you. You'd probably have sex with anyone right now."

"Yeah, alright, let's just drop this."

"_Please."_

And with that, it had all been said. After a while of uncomfortable wary eyes-open lying, En was convinced she wouldn't feel any more awkward attempts at romance, and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>"I didn't know you read books?"<p>

"I don't, but why you soundin' so surprised?"

"Heh, sorry. Just a bit weird seeing a book on your night stand."

"It's not for readin'."

"... So what's it for, then?... Don't shrug, come on, what's it for?"

"Nothin', really."

"Liar."

"... Sometimes I just like lookin' at the picture on the back. It's stupid, but I do."

"Hm, let's take a look at... Crap, sorry, was that your face?"

"What'dya think? But nevermind, just use my face for elbow support when you roll over me."

"Crybaby. Ngh, hold on. Grrr, come on... Ah, got it."

"Mm."

"... Hm. I can see why."

"... Yeah."

"And so you just... look at the photo from time to time?"

"Yep."

"That's... kinda unlike you."

"You know me the same way I know you. We have ace times together, but no more'n that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sides, it ain't different from what you do, pinin' over a chick you'll never see again."

"Well yeah, but I'm the romantic, starry-eyed type. You're like, more rational and down-to-earth. It's just... weird to imagine you looking at a picture and getting it right in the feels."

"Love for the truly unattainable is the purest love of all."

"See, that's so strange to hear y – Whoa, don't just toss it back like that. It's a book, treat it with respect. Anyway, why unattainable? She might be – "

"She's dead. Has been for a long time."

"Oh."

"I don't even wanna read the book, I don't wanna know who she was. Just... I dunno. Lookin' at 'er makes me feel calm."

"Heh, you're just full of surprises, you."

"Quit grinnin' like a drongo and turn off the light."

* * *

><p>"I'd offer you a smoke, but all I've got is a pipe, and well... that's of course reserved for personal use."<p>

"It's alright."

"Come out for a bit of fresh air too, did you?"

"Just to get away from the noise."

"Well then you're outta luck comin' to sit next to me. I'll talk your ear off."

"Yeah... Hey, that kid of yours, um..."

"Whoa, hey. She ain't the fruit of my loins. I'm just providin' some assistance on her little epic."

"Yeah, no, I gathered that."

"Uh, no thanks... or, you know what, I'll have a sip. How much'd you have, by the way?"

"Enough."

"Sure looks like enough to me."

"What are you, my dad?"

"Nope. Thanks... ah, that's some fine whiskey, missy."

"Yup. Distill it m'self. Anyway, um... that kid you're travellin' with?"

"Yeah, what of her? I'm gonna give you a friendly warnin' now, I'm a bad person to go to if you wanna complain 'bout 'er."

"No, no... I mean, not really... Ugh, don't raise your eyebrow like that. I just wanna ask... think she um... is interested in him?"

"Hah! Haha! In your paramour? Haha, no, missy. Pretty sure she ain't."

"She better not be."

"Believe me, she isn't. And for that matter, neither is he in any way interested in her."

"Tchyeah I know. I'm being stupid huh? I mean... not like she's any threat to me."

"If you say so."

"Psh. She looks like a boy."

"People aren't defined by their looks."

"Hah, yeah. That's what ugly people say."

"Beg pardon?"

"_Kiddin',_ kiddin'. But yeah, I mean, if you don't have the looks, you gotta have the personality. And she doesn't have that either."

"How's that."

"Well... she's annoying, acts like a spoiled brat and stuff?"

"She's young. People grow and change."

"Nah they don't. I've tried to change lots of people. Never worked."

"Maybe you're just not bein' convincin' enough."

"Hey did you start talkin' to me just to lecture me, y'old geezer? Cuz – "

"You came to sit next to me. I was simply bein' polite."

"Yeah. Sure. Anyway, that's some posse you're travellin' with."

"Care to elaborate?"

"A snot-nosed brat, a manbitch that looks like she was run over by a convoy of ink trucks, that mismatched couple, and then that blonde slut that rides everything that has a cock?"

"I suggest you show some more respect for her. Well, for my friends."

"Ooh, struck a nerve, did I? You're probably wishing you were up there instead of down here, huh?"

"Up where?"

"In her room. She and that blackjack dealer are gettin' it on like rabbits."

"Really. Well, that's her affair, I don't care."

"Haha, old man, you're a bad actor."

"I don't feel like discussin' this any further. Specially with you."

"Sure."

"And as for the people I travel with, yeah, I get that it seems rather strange... if you only base your opinion on external appearances."

"You callin' me shallow?"

"I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Shit, you're annoyin'."

"Then maybe that's why I get along with miss En so much."

"Probably. Two irritating smart-mouths together... I'm gonna get something to drink. See ya."

"... Tch, kids these days."

* * *

><p>"Smoking in bed is dangerous, you know."<p>

"I always light up afterwards, it's like, a ritual or something?"

"I guess. So... What happens now?"

"Uh... you get out of bed, get dressed and go away?"

"No, I mean... with us."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

"Um, there is no 'us'?"

"What do you mean, there is no 'us'? We just – "

"Yeah, we did, and it was alright, I guess, but it was just tonight, nothing more, you know?"

"Really? It's just, I thought..."

"Look, you're nice and all, but I don't, like, tie myself down?"

"... Will I see you again?"

"When we pass each other in the street, maybe."

"Come on, was this all it was to you?"

"Uh, ye_ah_."

"You could have fucking mentioned that before we started."

"Would it have stopped you?"

"..."

"Well, there ya go."

"I can't believe this. I'm outta here."

"Throw the rubber in the trash on the way out?"

"Fuck you."

"You just did. Bye."

* * *

><p>"How are they?"<p>

"Kinda painful. I should really get a few days of rest, but yeah, circumstances..."

"I know... It might be not be a bad idea to consider letting her carry on her journey alone."

"What, like... leave her behind?"

"... Well, letting her leave us behind. But yes."

"... I don't know."

"Look. We came along with her because I wanted to repay her for what she'd done for me, and you wanted to make sure she was safe."

"Yes, but – "

"I helped her reach Vegas, and she's found Benny. And she's got that Garland guy to protect her now, much as I dislike him."

"Mmmyeah, but I don't trust him. Besides, she asked us to come back to New Arroyo with her, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she mentioned it a few times. Not sure how I feel about the idea."

"I kinda liked Goodsprings, but if we're gonna start something together, might as well be somewhere new."

"I don't know, I still need to think about it."

"About starting something with me?"

"No, about starting somewhere new. Don't worry so much all the time."

"Oh. Right. But don't you want to see how this plays out? I mean, I kinda want to stick it out to the end.

"... I don't know. I have a feeling she'll be fine on her own. I don't like that Garland character one bit, but he seems trustworthy. Melissa's um... friend, or whatever she is, said the same thing and I'm inclined to believe her."

"Mm. I don't feel like leaving her on her own yet."

"Alright. Then we stay with her."

"M-hm."

"For the time being."


	48. Green-Eyed Jealousy

**FORTY-EIGHT**

**On the way back to Vegas**

**July 13****th**

**08:13**

"Please tell me you've slept as badly as I have?"

"Uh... no, I slept pretty alright actually."

"Tch. Never a bit of solidarity from you." En sat on one knee, rolling up her sleeping bag as compactly as possible. She hadn't been lying, she'd slept horribly. It had been a very short night as it was, and she'd probably been lying awake through half of it. She had no idea why.

"Hey um... about last night?"

Oh _come on_, not this again! "Nothing happened, far as I'm concerned."

"No, I mean... I just wanted to say, you were right. Thanks for um... being rational."

"Sure." She did not need to be reminded of his little advance late at night. "Now that you see my face in daylight, you're probably wondering what the Hell you were thinking, huh?"

"Heh, yeah."

Christ, he could at least pick up on her little compliment-fishing hint. "So, what now?"

"I guess we go see Scumbag House now. Tell him we have his little chip."

"Word. Then let's roll."

They walked back from their little hidey-hole, clearing the distance to New Vegas in good time, talking occasionally but mostly remaining silent. It was close to sunset when they arrived back in Freeside.

When they were about to approach the gate back into the Strip, Garland tugged at her sleeve. "Hey."

"Mm?"

"Maybe we shouldn't go see House just yet."

What was this again? "Why not? The sooner we give him his stupid little chip back, the sooner he'll stop fighting for our affection."

"Yeah, but... I'm sure he won't get edgy if he doesn't see us for a few more days."

"Probably not, but that doesn't answer my question. Why not?"

Garland looked away, gnawing at his lip. "I need to take care of something first."

"... Yes?"

"It's uh... nothing important. I just need to borrow that chip for an hour or so."

Was he fucking kidding? "Uh, I don't think so. Not if you don't tell me what this is about."

"I can't, but you'll get it back. You have to trust me."

En shook her head. "No explanation, no chip."

He jabbed a finger at her. "Hey, listen here. I have no idea what happened to my card, but I gave it to you and when you came back it was _gone_. Which means that chip belongs to both of us now, and – "

"I _told_ you, that card unlocked that bot's cage. That's what I used it for. You're free to think I'm lying, but that's the way it is."

"It doesn't matter. My package is gone, so I – " he interrupted himself. "What are you laughing about?"

"Sorry," En snickered. "It's just... 'my package is gone'..."

"Oh _har har_! When you're done being amused at your own childish humour, give me that damn chip."

"Nu-uh. I explained to you what happened to your card. You explain to me what'll happen to my chip."

"I don't have to explain anything to you."

"Then I don't have to give you anything either."

Garland turned away from her abruptly, letting out a frustrated "Gah!"

"Tell you what," En said, walking after him. "We won't go see House right away. We'll wait for a day or two. Think about it until then. But if you're not telling me anything, I'm not lending you that chip."

"Whatever. Let's just go back to our hotels. Come find me at ten tomorrow."

She shrugged. "Sure, if you want."

The walk back to the Vault 21 was anything but fun, and En was damn glad to let him continue on his merry way to whatever hotel he and his crew were staying at. Man, at times he could be alright, but sometimes he really was a gold medal asshole.

"They're at it again."

It was Melissa's voice. She was standing with her back to En, leaning against the wall of the hotel lobby. "Hey, Melissa."

"G'day jillaroo. It's stormy weather in Brotherhood bay again."

"Huh, what?" But then she saw what Melissa meant. Watkins and Veronica had gotten into a conversation. Or better, another barb-trading session. Hoo boy.

"I don't see the difference between getting in bed with a blackjack dealer and diving between the sheets with Melissa here."

"Of course you don't. You only see straight out of one eye, no wonder you can't see anything."

Veronica's pose was more laid-back and confident, her arms lazily crossed as she leaned on the back of a chair, but Leza looked more tense, her hands balled into fists and her body leaning slightly forward, her legs a bit apart. The difference between how the two stood already told En who was going to lose. "Yeah, that's right," Watkins shot back. "I've got hair hanging in front of my other eye. I don't know if you're familiar with the concept of hair?"

"Speaking of hair, your last sex partner asked me to tell you you really need to wax between your butt cheeks too." Veronica parried Watkins' insults with ease, while Leza had to struggle and spend a few seconds working her jaw before she came up with her retorts.

"Oh, that's rich," Leza fought back at Veronica. "Coming from the woman with more hair in her armpits than, like, on her head?"

"They've gone at it every time they crossed paths," Melissa quietly said to En. "Was funny at first, but then it just got sad."

It was Veronica's turn now. "Your armpits are probably your only skin folds that _haven't_ been a landing strip for every guy in the Mojave."

What the Hell was it with these two? Leza who was normally a harmless ditz, and Veronica, whom she knew as a bright and kind personality, both of them turned into god damn harpies when they saw each other.

"At least I don't have to get my rocks off with women because no man would ever look at me twice?"

Veronica put her hands in her sides and said defiantly. "So, thought of what you'll tell the Brotherhood when you get back? Oh, no wait, you _won't_!"

"Hey! I left because – "

"Hey you two?" En said wearily, instantly stopping the quarrelling. Both Veronica and Leza stared at En, Leza with her face slack in surprise, Veronica bearing the surprise with a bit more dignity. "Why don't you both shut the Hell up?"

Leza went beet-red, fuming with indignation. "Ennie, _she_ started – "

"I don't care," En said, annoyed and tired of the damn bickering. "I just risked my neck and this is what I have to come back to?"

"But – "

"Oy, blondie!" Melissa snapped. "She told you both to put a sock in it, yeah?"

"Yeah, Watkins – " Veronica began, but Melissa cut her off as well. "You too, Roni."

Veronica's eyes briefly flashed, but then she realized how childish she'd been, and she fell quiet, looking embarrassed.

"Now, are you going to be nice, or do I have to tell you both to go to your rooms?"

Leza turned on her heels and stomped out of the room. Veronica was less dramatic, settling for a quiet, "Hey, En. Sorry 'bout this."

"You two really need to work your shit out, and if you can't, just avoid each other."

Veronica's eyes became hard. "Working things out will never happen. You'd be smart not to travel with her anymore, En."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"You're right, sorry. This has nothing to do with you. So uh, you both came back alright?"

"Yeah. Garland's gone to your hotel. You'll find him there if you wanna go see him."

En hoped the hint had been obvious, and thankfully, Veronica picked up on it. "Yeah. Guess I should." She gave Melissa a brief glance. "See you later."

"Mm." When Veronica had gone, Melissa sighed and grunted, "I swear, those two..."

"Uh huh. Teenage drama. I thought I was the teenager here. Veronica ever tell you why they hate each other so much."

"Nah. We root together, but it's not like we share life stories or anything. All I know is Roni's convinced Watkins did somethin' really rotten to 'er."

"Well, they should sort their shit out instead of acting like children."

Melissa grinned. "Says the person with the most immature humour of us all."

"Yeah, so that's sayin' something!"

"So jillaroo, how's it been?" Without warning, Melissa threw her arms around her and gave her a brief but crushing hug, then let her go again before En had decently realized what had happened. She'd just felt a brief press of hard muscle, and then it was gone again. "Glad to see you're in one piece."

"Uh... thanks, and yeah, I'm fine. It's an awesome story though. Where's everyone else? I'll tell all of you at the same time."

"Uh... Meyers is upstairs, readin', and the two lovebirds are enjoyin' their dessert in the refect'ry. Watkins is probably sulkin' in the bathroom or somethin'."

"She'll come 'round. Right, I'll go say hi and round up everyone else. I'll tell the story in our bedroom, give it a bit of a sleepover feel." She didn't know why, but she felt like telling stories with everyone sitting on the bed.

"Whatever floats yer boat, jillaroo."

Meyers had quickly put his book aside at the prospect of a story, and Sunny and Ringo had been glad to see her again after she'd waited for a moment so as not to interrupt their romantic moment as they spooned the last of their chocolate mousse in each other's mouths. Watkins had been back in her room, indeed sulking, though she gave up on the whole routine pretty quickly.

She'd been right; it had been cozy. Watkins had cheered up instantly the moment she'd heard it'd be a slumber party, and she'd changed into some not exactly vulgar but still rather sensuous black night attire consisting of short shorts and a tight tank top with spaghetti straps (En had never seen her wear it, so she probably saved it to impress the boys with), and everyone else had more or less gotten into sleeping clothes too, Ringo in his jeans and T-shirt and on bare feet, Sunny in her sleeping T-shirt and pyjama pants (and huddled under Leza's blanket against the cold), Meyers in his denim shirt and boxers, prompting quite a few bony-old-guy-legs jokes from Melissa, who had limited her change into sleeping clothes to kicking her goth boots off. Meyers couldn't keep his eyes off Watkins, but the way he looked at her had changed. En could tell he tried not to look at her but couldn't help himself. Cheyenne lay at the foot end of the bed, clearly not giving a shit about stories.

Ringo had made coffee for everyone, shrugging when Sunny pointed out it was probably not allowed to turn on a gas stove inside the hotel rooms, and even though it was a bad idea to drink coffee before bed, the warmth and the feeling of everyone having a coffee together was worth lying awake a bit longer for.

So En began to talk, telling them of the chase when they'd approached the gate for the first time, the narrow escape from the firing squad, the trip to the Fort, how the whole place was Legion territory instead of NCR, her venture inside the bunker and the battle she'd waged with the help of the intrepid bot, the swim back to the other side and the walk back. She omitted several details (like Garland's advances, _shudder_!), but everyone listened and didn't interrupt. It was a wonderful evening, sitting together in the gloom of the night lamp, everyone on two beds, just listening to her. She felt Leza's shoulder against hers and Melissa's leg on the other side, both warm and human, and it was just... nice. Sharing the evening together like friends.

"So..." Ringo asked when the story was done. "He wants you to lend him the chip, but he doesn't want to say why?"

"Yeah."

"Don't give it to him then," Sunny decided. "I mean, if he doesn't want to say anything, he shouldn't get anything either."

Watkins contributed an agreeing, "M-hm."

"Seems to be the most logical course of action to me too," Meyers added. "Though there's no reason why you shouldn't wait a few days, give him a chance to change his mind."

"Yeah. Whatever he's plannin', might be advantageous to you too," Melissa concluded.

"Yep, guess you're right. I'll go see him in the morning."

"Speaking of 'in the morning'," Sunny groaned as she stretched, "I'm off to our room for some much needed R&R."

"Yeah," Ringo agreed. "It's getting really late. Sleep well, all."

"Can I um, have my blanket back, Sunny?" Watkins asked, looking a bit embarrassed. Sunny had rolled herself into Leza's blanket, and had gotten up, the blanket still around her.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, sure."

Meyers threw another quick but charged look at Watkins, then rose too. "G'night."

"I better go with this old geezer to make sure he doesn't break his hip. Night, jillaroo."

Watkins slid into her own bed, groaning in pleasure as she felt the warmth of the bodies that had sat on it. En did the same, though with less exaggerated enjoyment, after everyone had left.

"So um, Ennie, this Garland guy? What's he like?"

"Oh he's... I don't know what to make of him, really." She turned off the night light.

"You don't know? Like, how?"

"I dunno, sometimes he's alright, and other times he's a total twonk."

"Hmm. He's seriously yummy though, I can tell you that?"

Figured that'd be all she thought about. "I don't know. I might find him more attractive if he had a less shitty personality."

"Tch, you don't feel that."

"Ew, That's... vulgar."

"But it's true? I mean, who cares about personality when you're having sex? I sure don't?"

"No, I'm sure you don't." She propped herself up on her elbows and turned towards Leza, a vague dark silhouette in the gloom of the bedroom. "Leza. What the Hell is it with you and Veronica?"

A frustrated sigh came from the dark silhouette. "I _told_ you, I don't _know_! She just hates me and I don't know why, alright?"

"You sure you don't know?"

"Um, ye_ah_?"

"You're not hiding something, are you?"

"Ugh, no way! I _told_ you, I don't know! What's with the third degree?"

"Nothing, Leza. Nevermind. Go to sleep."


	49. Glittering Gold

**FORTY-NINE**

**New Vegas, Vault 21 Hotel**

**July 14****th**

**09:15**

En's pip-boy alarm went off with a beeping that was rather timid at first, but which rose to full-blown shrieking pretty soon after.

Her eyes still closed and her face buried in the pillow, En clawed at the little gadget, missing it and knocking it off the night stand onto the ground, where it lay, beeping even more shrilly, as if in indignation to what had been done to it.

"Krraahhh, Ennie, turn that thing off?"

"Trying, trying," En groaned, still trying to get hold of the thing without opening her eyes. Her fingers swept over the floor next to her bed, finally hooking the pip boy, her thumb finding the button to turn off the alarm.

"Geez Ennie, does it like, have to be that loud?"

"I uh... didn't know it was so uh..."

"Loud?"

"Yeah." She opened her eyes, squinting against the light coming in through the curtains. "I need to go see Garland though. Said we'd meet at 10 and I still gotta shower."

Watkins only groaned inarticulately.

"Wanna come?"

"Uh, _no_? And run into Veronica again?"

"Boo-hoo. Just don't say anything to her and it'll be fine."

"Yeah, naw. I'll just lie here and have sexy dreams?"

"Uh... sure."

En quickly hopped under the shower (the water was great, but she couldn't enjoy it for long, had to make sure she was in time to meet Garland, otherwise the bastard would just have another reason to act condescending), towelled, brushed her teeth, jumped into her clothes (she left the Stealth Suit in the hotel room), grabbed a quick breakfast and went to Garland's hotel, a tacky, run-down place called the Queen of Clubs. It sounded like a god damn S&M dungeon.

He already stood waiting outside, smoking a cigarette with Cass. Ugh, great, just the person she wanted to see this morning.

Thankfully, he took a few steps towards her when he noticed her, so that Cass didn't have to get involved in the conversation. "Morning."

"Morning."

"I've been thinking. Maybe it's best if we go see House now. Get that murder rap off our heads."

That was odd. "Why the sudden change?"

He shrugged. "Getting rid of that potential jail time seems most important at the moment."

"O... kay. Let's go then."

He flicked his cigarette away. "Yeah."

They were welcomed by their old friend, irritating cowboy robot Victor, and led up to the penthouse floor. Jane, the robot secretary, greeted them in her southern hussy drawl and brought them to the screen, that supposedly displayed Mr. House.

"I see you have both returned unharmed. I will take the liberty of assuming you have succeeded at Fortification Hill?"

"Yeah, we have," Garland went at him right away. "You could have told us it was Legion territory instead of NCR turf, you jackass."

"Your tone or disposition have not improved it seems. As you may surmise, however, I have been unable to ascertain any political or territorial shifts in person, and therefore I regret that some of my information is not always entirely up-to-date."

"I thought businessmen stood or fell by their information?" En couldn't resist.

"That's enough of your smart mouth, child," the face on the screen said, calmly but firmly. "The platinum chip, do you have it?"

"Uh huh," En said, producing the shiny little disc. "Right here."

"It is good to see you are at least somewhat capable. Kindly step over to the lift and ride it to the basement level. I will provide instructions as you descend."

"We'll need your promise that you won't withdraw your statement about the murder charge though," Garland said.

"And you have it."

En shot Garland a quick look, and he shrugged. After a short breath, she stepped forward towards the elevator, the chip in her clenched fist, and Garland followed. She still didn't trust the whole thing. Why was Garland suddenly no longer eager to get his hands on the chip, or at least hold onto it a bit longer? What the Hell was his deal?

"Step right on in, pardners," Victor drawled, making a little bounce on his tyre. Stupid trash compactor.

The elevator door closed behind them and En unconsciously gripped the platinum chip even tighter. If he was going to take it from her, it'd be here. Or maybe he'd made a deal with House to kill her and take her chip so he'd get the reward all to himself. Maybe he'd break her skull in the basement and take the chip from her dead fingers as steam slowly and lazily rose from her exposed brain, dissolving in the cold and dark of the cellar.

But Garland just remained motionless and disinterested, looking around the elevator as it rode down to level 2, level 1, level 0, and then ding!, level -1.

The elevator doors opened and they found themselves in a small bunker-like chamber, with a reinforced-glass window in the front wall, that looked out on a larger, concrete basement. Set in the wall below the window was a console that consisted only of a slot, a single button and a series of (currently unlit) LED lights.

"Kindly insert the platinum chip into the slot," Mr. House' voice intoned from a speaker hung in the corner above their heads. Garland stood behind her, still looking completely disinterested. She half-expected a heavy object to come down on her skull, but nothing came. With fingers that trembled more than she wanted them to, she let the chip slide into the slot.

The line of red LEDs slowly began to light up, one after the other, slowly making a longer and longer bar, until the last one, this one green, lit up with a soft _beep_.

"Excellent," House said, the satisfaction clearly audible in his digitized voice. "Now seeing as you were doubtless wondering what data was on this chip, you're free to press the button on the console for a demonstration."

En looked at Garland. He shrugged again and said, "Sure, I guess." He leaned forward and pressed the button.

There was a loud whzzzzz-sound in the room beyond the glass, and a hatch opened in the floor, a securitron bot rising up through it.

"You doubtless recognize this standard securitron robot?" House asked.

"I certainly recognize a rhetorical question," En answered. "At least I hope that was one."

"Yes, I thought so," House confirmed, ignoring En's annoyed reply. "Commence securitron upgrade."

Promptly, the securitron bot retracted its arms into its chassis and a series of hard clicks and whirrs followed. The arms extended again, but the puny-looking gatling gun was gone, replaced by a bigger and more impressive variant, and the other arm, which only had a clumsy prehension tool before, now bore a large tube which En instantly recognized as a rocket launcher.

Holy shit.

"Let us see how much better they fare now."

Another standard securitron bot rose from the hatch in the floor. From the ceiling, three chains came down, both ending in hooks punched into the backs of crash test dummies.

"Mark I securitron will now eliminate the target," House announced, obviously enjoying it. The bog-standard security bot raised its little six-shooter and fired, the bullets leaving the barrels at a steady pow-pow-pow rate, making the crash test dummy dance as the low-calibre rounds punctured it and tore small but respectable chunks of plastic away. It took around seven seconds until the dummy was damaged enough for it to crash down from its hook and fall into a crumpled mass of massacred body parts onto the concrete.

"Now observe," House said smugly, "the mark II securitron."

As if understanding House' statement, the upgraded security bot raised its heavy-calibre minigun and let rip, the sound deafening, even with the reinforced glass blocking most of it. The bullets were spewed out faster than En's eye could see, flying at the crash test dummy out of a yellow and almost white flare of flame. It took exactly one second for the dummy to be torn straight off the hook and dance through the air, the minigun cartridges continuing to tear it apart as it flew, even keeping it in the air for a little bit longer, until it fell to the ground, reduced to unrecognizable chunks of plastic.

Both En and Garland were reduced to absolute silence.

"A convincing demonstration, wouldn't you say?"

Neither had the presence of mind to argue with him.

"Commence second part of the demonstration. The mark II securitron will now employ its rocket-propelled grenade launcher."

The bot didn't wait for an explicit order, as usual, and with a sharp _whoosh_, a fiery spear shot out of its arm, and another deafening bang sounded, a flash of explosion blowing the crash test dummy to every corner of the bunker, its blackened and molten parts clattering as they hit the ground.

"I think we no longer have to wonder why that chip was so important," Garland grunted in En's ear.

"Yeah." Again she was struck with the feeling that he knew something more. Maybe not something complete, but he had an idea about something. A plan. Something he didn't want her to know.

"This concludes the demonstration," House announced, and with a click, the platinum chip popped out of the slot again, waiting for two fingers to pick it up. En didn't know why, but she reached out as quickly as she could and snatched it from the console.

In the big basement, securitrons came up through the hatch, one by one, upgrading themselves the same way the first securitron had done. House was apparently getting ready to transform his securitron police force into a securitron army. And the screens of the things proved En right: when a securitron was done with its upgrade cycle, the cartoon face on the screen turned from a stern cop to a gritty army dude complete with helmet, cigarette between clenched teeth and five o'-clock shadow. What the Hell was he planning to do? Conquer the Mojave? Not even with a thousand securitrons, no way, even armed like that. What then? Solidify his power? It was guesswork so far.

"Consider the chip payment for services rendered," House said through the speakers. "The platinum should fetch a decent price among the more wealthy of New Vegas' inhabitants. Garland Reilly, though your item was used up to retrieve the data on the chip, you will be compensated accordingly."

"You can give the chip to me and the money to the kid here," Garland said, trying to sound casual but not entirely succeeding. "I'm sure I'll have an easier time selling it than her." It made sense, but something didn't sit right with her.

"No, it's cool," she said. "I'll probably keep the chip as a memento." She had no intention of doing that, but it would serve as an excuse to hang onto it for now.

A barely visible flash of frustration shot over Garland's face, and then he shrugged. "We'll discuss it later."

"Sure, yeah."

"Kindly take the elevator back up to the penthouse level," House' voice came through the speakers. "Jane will have your remuneration ready, and there are a few more things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Oh man, I hope it's more blackmail!" En quipped.

"I would rather discuss it face-to-face, miss Tessara. Please, step into the elevator."

En didn't know if Garland had noticed it too, but his tone of voice had changed. He was still smug and arrogant, but his manner of speaking had lost that impatient edge, that slightly urgent bent that it used to have. It seemed highly unlikely to En that House was a robot – robots can mimic human emotions, sure, but they'd never be able to sound relieved and make that subtly apparent through their speech. En didn't think so.

They rode the elevator back up, where they were greeted with a _ding_ and then Victor's tinny cowboy drawl: "Penthouse floor."

Victor hadn't been upgraded with a minigun and a launcher. Good news: it meant that if En ever wanted to smash the bucket of bolts to bits, she'd have an easier time of it.

Jane rolled forward (she too, had been excluded from the great gun hand-out that was probably going on in the basement now), and held out a bag of caps, waiting for Garland's hand to take it. Garland gave En a brief look that could mean many things, but that was probably generated by indecision on whether or not to attempt to persuade En to give up her chip, so she simply said, "Not gonna take your payment?" There was a sadistic edge in it that she only noticed herself when she said it.

With another flash of frustration briefly passing over his face, Garland snatched the bag of caps out of Jane's prehensile claw.

"Mr. House would like to see you for another moment," Jane told them. "This way please."

En figured whatever the guy had to say, it would be pretty harmless, so she followed Jane, and heard Garland coming after her.

"Ah, there you are," the House-screen said. "Your journey to the bunker must not have been easy. You've proven yourselves to be more competent than I'd expected." Holy shit, he even managed to sound magnanimous. "I have a business proposition for you, if you would hear it?"

"Sure," Garland said, picking his teeth with his fingernail.

En shrugged and agreed, "Listening won't hurt. Unless it's more blackmail?"

"No, I assure you, this is a business proposition made on equal footing. No more leverage. I do regret having to resort to such underhanded means, but it was necessary to ensure your loyalty. Now, I have to assignments that I need done, and I can't send my securitron robots for either. I need someone to do a reconnaissance trip to the North, and someone to do some detective work in this city. I will, of course, compensate you generously if you decide to accept, but I cannot give any details until you've agreed to undertake the assignment."

"Work for you?" En scoffed. "I'd love to, but I'm supposed to get my butt stung by a thousand radscorpions tomorrow, and I'd rather be doing that."

"Yeah, I don't feel like being your bitch any longer either," Garland added.

"The compensation would be five thousand caps. Each."

En wasn't the materialistic type, but that struck her completely silent.

"Did you say 'five thousand'?" Garland asked next to her.

"Five thousand," House merely repeated. "It's not without danger, but neither is it a suicide mission by any means."

As much as she disliked having to work for this guy, machine, A.I., whatever he was, five thousand was a _lot_ of money. For some 'simple reconnaissance' or some 'detective work', that was big money for not too much effort. Five thousand, dammit, way back when, the statue girl had bought a god damn car for two! And this guy... thing... was offering her _five!_ She didn't know about Garland, but it was too good to pass up. "Uh... I guess if you put it that way... Radscorpion butt-stinging doesn't pay that well."

His voice oozed smugness again. "It is pleasant to see that you recognize a good business agreement when you hear one."

As if he'd been waiting to see what En's reply would be, Garland also said, "Yeah, sure, sign me up."

"We will now conduct our business on an equal footing," House warned, "That means you may feel tempted not to uphold your end of the deal. I strongly advise against it."

"Shit, for five thousand, I'd mud-wrestle a deathclaw," En said.

"There will be no need for that. I require one of you to make a short trip to the north-east. A faction of people that live there have caught my interest. I could use their assistance, so some diplomatic skill and basic navigational prowess are necessary. The other assignment I need doing is an investigation into a casino, here on the Strip. This requires less diplomacy and more... coercive skill."

"I'm not sure I'm the best diplomat of the two of us," En said. "Or, well, the least worst."

"Yeah, no, she isn't. I wouldn't send the kid unless you need someone to come back to Vegas howling for your blood."

"Oh _you_," En said haughtily. "You flatter me so."

"And I would send _you_, Garland Reilly," House said, not amused, "if I wanted the whole diplomacy effort to degenerate into one big gunfight. En Tessara, I give you the reconnaissance assignment. You're both absolutely awful at diplomacy, but at least _you_ won't start shooting when they say something that doesn't please you."

"Uh... sure, I guess."

"I do suggest letting some of your less infuriating companions do the talking. I wish to form a strong alliance with these people and I will not have you ruining it with your attempts at humour."

"Hey, if you trust us so little, why not send someone else?" Garland asked, irritated.

"Because someone else doesn't know about the chip. Whether any of us like it or not, you are now the only people I can give this assignment to. You are couriers and know what secrecy entails. Jane will provide you both with the details concerning your assignment."

"Oh, we get like, a mission briefing?"

House' speakers sighed. "If you must call it that."

"Cool! I've never had one of those."

"One more thing. My sources tell me you are staying at the Vault 21 and the Queen of Clubs respectively, yes?"

"Uh huh."

"No longer. The Lucky 38 is equipped with a more than adequate number of suites to accommodate both your parties. I trust you'll find these lodgings more to your liking than these vulgar hotels, and far less draining on your monetary resources."

Whoa, that was a nice gesture. Sure, it was most likely so he could keep an eye on them more closely, but still, casino suites tended to be far more luxurious than hotel rooms. Especially the hotel Garland was at. Shit, what a dump.

"How come you're so generous all of a sudden? I thought you hated us?" Garland asked. The moron was gonna ruin it if he wasn't careful.

"My personal feelings towards you are of no consequence. This is a gesture between business partners. I find that motivated and happy associates perform much more satisfactorily than disgruntled henchmen."

"Oh." Garland shrugged. "Guess I'm okay with that."

"Yeah, sweet, thanks. That is totally not uncool of you."

House' speakers crackled with another sigh. "I already doubt if this was a wise decision."


	50. Residents

**FIFTY**

**New Vegas, Lucky 38 Suites**

**July 14****th**

**13:29**

"Ooohoooh, these rooms are like, totally awesome!"

"Like, totally for sure," En replied wearily as she threw her backpack into a corner. These weren't rooms, they were more like suites, with the beds placed behind a small living room type place, with a coffee table and two low leather-cushioned sofas. _Nice._

"So um, same room division as before... right?"

"Since I'm the only one you _don't_ refuse to be stuck in a room with, yeah I suppose."

She'd gone to get her friends, saying she had some important things to tell them. One of those important things was already said: they were staying at the Lucky 38 from now on. The other thing, that she'd accepted another mission from House and that everyone was welcome to join in, that was still unsaid.

Leza put her hands in her sides. "You make it sound like I hate everyone?"

"Well, let's see, Sunny and Ringo wanna stay together, and," En counted on her fingers, "Meyers is too old and horny, and Melissa is too bi."

En raised an eyebrow.

"Well... he is. And she is."

"Tch. I spent several nights in a room with Melissa and was never molested. And that was during the time she hated my guts."

Leza raised two prissy hands. "Um, _excuse me_, but there's a big difference between you and me in terms of, like, molestability?"

Ugh, there she was again. What was most infuriating about her when she got like this was that you couldn't just take her down a peg, stupid sexy –

Oh shit.

"Leza, cl... close the door."

"Wha?"

"Close th... the door. I'm... getting one."

"Oh, shit, right!"

En heard the door fall closed, miles away, and there it was again. It had been a few days since the last seizure, and she'd secretly hoped she was rid of them, but nope. Her ears rang again and her knees fell out. She felt herself hit the soft surface of the bed before the shrieking became so loud it drowned out everything else and the light became so intense it turned to nothing but white.

And after several seconds which felt like they lasted minutes, the shrieking went down and her eyes undoubled. She waited until she could hear her own breathing, then tried to sit up.

"You okay?" Leza stood leaning against the door, keeping it closed.

"Been... been better. God dammit I th... thought they were gone for good."

"It... doesn't seem like it was a big one though?"

"No, guess not." She tried to get to her feet, but her balance fell away and her ass dropped back onto the soft mattress. "Ugh. This sucks."

"I mean, you weren't going totally nuts or anything. You just flopped down and twitched a bit?"

En weakly motioned for Leza to shut up. "Yeah, yeah, alright alright."

"Better now?"

"Uh huh."

There was a knock on the door, and En motioned for Leza to open it. It had been Sunny and Ringo knocking. Cheyenne was there too. Victor had tried to deny her entry, saying animals weren't allowed in the Lucky 38, but a threat from En that Mr. House wouldn't appreciate Victor being rude to his guests had shut him up. Sunny, predictably, saw En sitting disoriented on the bed and kneeled down in front of her. "You okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little seizure."

"I thought you were taking – "

"I _am_. And I'm fine." Cheyenne nudged En's hand with her nose and she absently stroked her muzzle.

"What did you need to see us about, miss En?" Ringo asked, sober and rational as always.

"Yeah, just a sec. Gotta wait 'til Melissa and Meyers are here."

It only took a few minutes for both of them to get installed into their new room, and then En could tell them the proposition of Mr. House. She explained the whole thing, that she had to go Northeast and make contact with a group of people known as the "Boomers". When she mentioned the name, Ringo immediately perked up. "Boomers? He said you had to go talk to people called the Boomers?"

"Yeah. Why, you know them?"

Ringo chuckled. "Know _of_ them. Hate to inform you, but you've been sent on another fool's errand."

En blinked. "What? Why?"

"The Boomers," Ringo explained, "are known for two things. One, for not being known, and two, for blowing up everyone who tried to _get_ to know them."

"Oh yeah," Sunny added. "I heard of a group people who shell everyone who comes close to their home. So that's the Boomers then?"

"Yeah," Melissa said. "They're the Boomers alright. I once went that far North, heard the bangs in the distance. S'posed to be right enough buckos when you actually get to talk to 'em, but not sure what the point would be tryin' to make contact with pikers that try to blow everyone up before even wonderin' what they want."

"Yeah well, he's offering five thousand caps."

A moment of silence fell, then Meyers whistled between his teeth. "That's just under a thousand each if we all come along. Not too shabby."

"Uh huh," En agreed. "What I thought too."

"That's assumin' everyone comes along, of course," Meyers clarified. "Maybe a few folks wanna sit this one out?"

Ringo and Sunny briefly looked at each other, then Sunny imperceptibly shook her head. Ringo almost managed to conceal his disapproval, but then said, "No, we'll come with you."

"Me too! Me too!" Leza cheered. "Just make sure I don't, like, get asploded? Mess up my hair and all."

"Sure," Melissa said with a nod. "Count me in. But I'm tellin' you, you're total fruitcakes if you think you can make it to their base without gettin' blasted into bite-sized kibbles."

"_Actually_," En said, "I think I've got a solution to the whole blowing up problem."

Meyers raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

"M-hm. They can't shell what they can't see."

"You're not thinkin' of just dressin' up as a piece of hedge are you jillaroo? Cause I don't see that plan workin'."

Ringo nodded. "And for the love of God don't try a cardboard box. That only works in video games."

En smiled mysteriously, as she so loved to do. "You'll see."

There was ruckus in the hallway: boots stomping on the wooden floor, voices talking, laughing and arguing, and doors banging closed and opening. Sunny cocked her head at the door, listening. "Sounds like Garland's crew's here too."

Not long after, there was a rapping on the door.

"Hey kid," Garland said, "If you wanna check out that bot, I've got him right here in my room."

"Bot? Oh! Right, the eyebot. Sure."

She followed Garland to his room. His bunch had occupied the three rooms opposite En's group, the space between two of their rooms opening up to a balcony which made a sort of mezzanine looking out over the casino floor. Leza apparently followed her, probably to look over her shoulder. Fine, whatever. En got a glare from Cass, who vacated the room as soon as En came in, shouldering roughly past her, but Garland didn't seem to mind. "He's right there."

They'd plunked the bot down on the coffee table, and En sat down, screwing the metal beach ball open. After taking a quick look inside, she immediately identified the problem. "Uh, dude?"

"What?"

"When you replaced that battery, were you even a little bit gentle?"

"Uh... sure, I guess."

En sighed. "You people, always busting things up when the repairs aren't even cold yet. Got a hairpin or something?"

His arms crossed, Garland frowned at her. "Yeah, all the time. For my hair."

"I dunno, just figured you might use them for, uh, you know, opening locks or something."

"Who uses a hairpin for opening locks?"

"I've heard of it being done."

With a roll of her eyes and a 'oh you _guys_'-sigh, Watkins fished a bobby pin from her breast pocket and held it out to En.

"Thanks. You yanked a few wires loose. They probably stayed attached for a little bit longer, but now they got loose entirely. Just... gotta... reconnect... them... and... there you go!"

With a militaristic drum roll coming from its speakers, the little eyebot was back in action, boosting itself up from the coffee table and hovering in the air above En and Garland.

"Oooh!" Leza cheered. "We never had stuff like that in the Brotherhood."

Garland turned around, puzzled. "_You're_ Broth – "

He was interrupted by the eyebot suddenly replaying a message. "Subject diagnosis complete. Begin recording. My name is Dr. Whitley, in charge of eyebot development at Enclave R&D. Eyebot Duraframe Subject E is both the prototype and the last functional model in this test group. All research funding is being diverted to the Hellfire Project to counter Brotherhood of Steel power armoured infantry."

The message fell away after that, leaving the occupants of the room standing in stunned silence.

"So like, that thing is an _Enclave_ eyebot?" Leza asked, flabbergasted.

"Seems so," Garland merely said. "Why'd it suddenly play that message though?"

"Might be triggered by certain words," En guessed. "I dunno."

"Okay, _this_ I gotta let the Brotherhood take a look at!"

"It's uh... not our eyebot, Leza," En pointed out. "I mean, we can't just take it away from here, I'm sure Garland – "

Garland only shrugged and interrupted, "When this is done, I'm sure miss...?"

Leza made a bounce. "Watkins."

"... can borrow it for a while. Though Veronica might want dibs on it too."

That immediately ruined Watkins' good mood. "Ugh. Of course she would."

"Well, Garland," a male voice said behind them, "I must say I've had worse accommodations. Not entirely sure of the owner's sense of style, but can't have it all."

The voice belonged to a man they hadn't seen yet, with short blond curls and thick-rimmed glasses, and wearing a lab coat. When he noticed there were other people in the room, his eyes lit up. "Oh! You must be the other group Garland spoke so... _highly _about." He extended his hand. "Arcade Gannon, at your service. Miss En, I presume?"

En shook his hand. "Uh... yeah, hi."

He shook Leza's hand as well. "I assume _Garland_ hasn't told you who I am yet?" He was not bad looking, in a slightly geeky way.

"Uh... I don't think so?"

He rolled his eyes. "Figures. Garland, you ill-mannered oaf."

Garland could only manage a sheepish grin. "Eh, well..."

"Typical. Sends me back to the Followers to gather everything we need to bug this place, which takes _days_," he made a dramatic wheel with his hands, "and then even neglects to mention me."

"Wait, _what_?" En snapped at Garland. "Gather stuff to do _what_?"

"Shh," Garland hissed, gesturing dramatically. He put his index finger to his lips and pointed at the ceiling, then whispered, so theatrically it would have been comical under different circumstances, "Place might be bugged."

"Are you fucking nuts?" En mouthed at him.

"I'll explain later," he mouthed back. And then, talking normally again, "Arcade, let's stop sounding like a married couple. Kid, this is Arcade Gannon, an _invaluable _member of my group, a man of unparalleled intelligence and resourcefulness. Philanthropist, scholar, gentleman."

The blond man put his hands in his sides. "There was no call for this kind of hyperbole either."

Garland shrugged. "Eh. Some people are just never happy."

"Garland," En asked, sounding amiable but taking care to let the simmering anger sound through, "Can I speak to you outside for a moment, please?"

Garland already saw the rainstorm hanging. "Yes, dear."

Cheerful again, Watkins informed them, "Sure, I'll just get to know Mr. Gannon a little better in the meantime." She added a suggestive wink to make sure En got the point across. As if she needed to.

"Uh, yeah, _good luck_ with that," Garland said as they left the room, and then, in the hallway, he quietly told En, "He's gay. Heh heh."

En didn't share his good mood.

When they were outside, she asked him, "Garland, what the Hell? If you're seriously thinking of trying to bug that place, you're nuttier than candy bar shit!"

"I think it can be done."

He didn't seem to be getting it. "Listen. We don't even know if House is human. For all we know, he's an A.I., and you better believe he'll know when we start bugging his damn network."

Garland motioned for her to stay calm. "The Followers have built us an untraceable bug... thing... doohickey, so he'll never know."

En crossed her arms. "No bug is untraceable, and the fact that you call it a 'bug thing doohickey' just makes me even more convinced that you have no idea what you're doing."

"Well, you know what? It's simple. If you give me your chip and go do your errand, you won't have to worry about it anymore."

En let out an angry sigh. "This again? I _told_ you, tell me what you need it for and I'll consider it. Not before!"

He thought for a moment, and seemed on the verge of spilling it, but then, at the last moment, seemed to reconsider. "It doesn't matter. Nevermind."

"Yeah, so that brings us back to your stupid plan. I mean, what's even the point?"

Garland lit a cigarette and took a drag, looking away. "It's a favour for Arcade. The Followers asked him to bug the place, see where he allocates his resources."

"Aren't the Followers supposed to be friendly and why-can't-we-all-just-get-along?"

"Yeah. Guess they really need to know this huh?"

"Look, this is crazy. If you try to bug this place and he finds out, whatcha think's gonna happen? Mm?"

"Alright, alright, keep your pantyhose on," he finally conceded. "I'll only stick the bug when our business with him is done and you're on your way home, how's that?"

She supposed that was the best she could get out of him. "It's still completely stupid, but I guess I can't stop you if you wanna kill yourself."

"Don't be such a scaredy-pants."

She slapped him against the chest. "Don't call me that. I'm going back inside."

"Sure." He didn't seem inclined to follow, staying behind to smoke his cigarette. Sometimes En really wanted to wring the overconfident asshole's neck.

"High roller suite," Victor announced as she got off the elevator. The first time, it had made to roll out of it with her, but she'd told him in unmistakable terms that she didn't want him there. It had been rude and unbecoming of a guest, but she _really_ couldn't stand the stupid robot. So now he stayed in the elevator. Good.

Contrary to Garland's expectations, Leza and Arcade Gannon were still talking in the hallway, though it was clear from the atmosphere that Leza had put away her aspirations of adding another man to her tally. En chuckled to herself when she realized it was immensely petty of her to consider Leza incapable of normal conversation without ulterior motives.

"When do we leave, little lady?" Meyers asked, coming out of the suite he and Melissa shared, dressed in a new shirt. He'd gone clothes shopping while she was away. Good. The shirt was a bit too cowboy-style for her tastes, but at least now he had two of them. She hoped he'd tossed his prison clothes out.

"Uh, I was thinking tomorrow?"

"Sure. Plans for tonight then?"

"Um, I thought we could – "

"Spend Ennie's money in the casino!" Watkins interrupted, breaking off her conversation with Garland's friend and barging straight into theirs.

"Uh... I was kinda thinking just going out together to see a show or something?"

"Oooh," Leza chirped, clapping. "That'd be like, crazy awesome?"

"Uh... yeah. Melissa ready?"

"She's in the bathroom," Meyers responded. "And I know better than to go in there."

"Yeah, that might be deadly. I'll go check." She navigated past the furniture in the suite and knocked on the bathroom door. "Yo, Melissa?"

"Wot?"

"We're gonna go see a show tonight, you coming along?"

"_Wot_?"

"I _said_, we're gonna go see a show tonight, you coming?" Ugh, she hated having to shout through doors.

"Jillaroo, just come in, yeah?"

Whatever Melissa was doing, it probably wouldn't be something retina-scarring, so she opened the door. "We're gonna go see a show tonight, coming?"

Melissa had treated herself to a nice bath, and En could only see her head and two feet sticking out over the rim of the tub, steam rising from the hot water, slowly swirling up through a mountain of bath foam. She'd made herself comfortable and En was glad to see it. "Oh, sure, yeah. I mean, I'm not a big fan of dancin', but I'll come along."

"Cool. No rush though, enjoy your bath."

"I will. Just wish I had some little boats to play battleship with or somethin' an' make explodey noises."

"We'll buy some when we're shopping."

"Heh. See you in a bit."

"Yep."

She passed by Sunny and Ringo's room next, asking them if they wanted to come along. There was a second of silent conference between them, but eventually Sunny decided, "No, hun, we're going to have a nice dinner together. Some quality time, you know?"

"Oh. Sure, yeah."

"Be nice to the old man, though," Ringo said. "No ganging up on him, now."

"Nope, don't worry, no gangbangs. See you tomorrow!" she said with a smile, closing the door. As she bounced back to her room, she ran into the guy that had shot the old woman back in Novac. The silent psycho. "Oh. Uh, hi."

"Miss." He had a sports bag over his shoulder and a battered but powerful-looking scoped rifle on his back. The beret was where it always was. En wondered if he took it off for showering.

The guy sent shivers down her spine, but despite that, she was determined to at least have something resembling a conversation with him. "Um... since we're, like, staying in the same place, it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Not much to tell, though."

"Start with your name? I'm En. En Tessara."

"Yeah. I know."

She motioned for him to continue. "Yes, and...?"

"Craig Boone. Acquainted enough?"

"No. I still don't know why you shot that woman in Novac."

"Probably because that's none of your business." It wasn't said with a malicious or angry tone, just flatly stating the fact.

"Maybe not, but I think it'd help if I knew what happened there so I can stop thinking of you as a psycho who kills old women."

"It was something that had to be done," he merely said. "Just trust me and the Courier when we say it was more than justified."

It was weird to hear people call Garland 'the Courier'. _She_ was the Courier, dammit. "Guess that's all I'm gonna get out of you then?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. If you wanna be mysterious, be that way."

"Exactly. Have a nice evening." With that, he walked to his room.

"Uh... yeah, you too. Enjoy uh... making tiny superheroes out of ear wax or whatever it is you do."

"Don't mind Boone," Veronica said, appearing on the top of the stairs, lugging a backpack of her own. "At least, don't take it personally. There's a lot of pain behind those cold eyes."

"I suppose. Hi, Veronica."

"Hey sweetheart."

"We're gonna take in a show tonight. Wanna come?"

Veronica put the backpack down onto the ground. The rather loud _bonk_ it made betrayed that it was seriously heavy, and her face was flushed, tiny beads of sweat matting her brow. "I might, yeah. Who else is coming?"

Yeah, that question could only mean one thing. "Yeah, she is."

She smiled and picked up the backpack again. "Then no, honey. Have fun though!"

"We will."

After a quick shower and tooth-brushing, En was ready for a relaxing evening. She'd refused Watkins' offer of putting on foundation. Not only was it really not her style, but it also felt like there was glue caked to her face all night and that wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"So um," Watkins asked when they were out on the street, enjoying the cool evening air. "Which places are like, doing shows?"

"There's a billboard over there, my dear. Shall we go take a look?" Meyers offered her his arm, and Leza hooked hers into it.

"Look at 'em go," Melissa said with a grin. "They look like an escort an' her client."

"Yeah, they kinda do, don't they?"

"Wonder if she realizes."

En shrugged. "Maybe. But let the old man have his pleasure, right?"

"Yeah, I s'pose."

Leza and Meyers stood looking at the billboard, and Leza excitedly pointed at it. Meyers seemed hesitant, saying a few words to her, to which Watkins responded with a dismissive throw-away gesture. Meyers looked at the billboard a bit longer, then shrugged, and they walked back.

"Well, there's one place that hosts a show tonight," Meyers said, Leza still on his arm.

"Alright, cool, where is it?"

"Um," Leza said, taking her arm out of Meyers'. "The Tops."

Melissa pulled her mouth crooked and let out a pensive, "Hmmm."

"Maybe we should just call it a night instead?" Meyers said. "You decide, little lady."

Yeah, maybe they should. Then again, _she_ hadn't killed Benny and caused the mess in the hotel room. Swank, who'd probably be the boss now, knew that even if she _had_ killed him, it'd been for a just cause. Well, that he'd had it coming, at least, and furthermore, she was on Mr. House' white list. Garland had been seen on the CCTV system, and Mr. House had confirmed she 'wasn't' the killer. She was pretty certain Swank wouldn't cause too much trouble. "Nah, let's head on over there. It'll be okay."

"Yay!"

"Well hello, welcome to the T... " Swank interrupted himself when he recognized En. "Ah. It's you."

"Um, hi?"

"Shall we... proceed to my office?"

"Uh... sure?"

She left her friends behind and followed Swank to his office. This time, the guards didn't ask for her weapons, they merely fidgeted nervously when she passed. It seemed Mr. House had reinforced his desire to see his agents unobstructed. Swank sat down behind his desk and briefly glanced at a photo before looking at her. Why did he look at a picture frame before talking to her? He cleared his throat. "So what uh... what brings you here?" His cheery salesman persona was very far away. And did she see his lower lip tremble? He looked seriously ill at ease.

"Whoa hey," she calmed him. "I'm not here to hold you upside down in a vat of warm marmalade and then remove your testicles with some sort of blunt gardening instrument. I'm just here to come see a show."

Exasperated, he looked at her with his face slack. "You're... you're what?"

"You've got a show tonight, right? I thought I'd treat my friends to a night out, you know? You said your shows were really something, so I thought I'd take you up on your offer."

"So you're not... not here on... business?" he breathed, seemingly unable to believe it.

"_No_, totally not. Dude, you look scared to death, knock it off, you're freaking me out."

"Oh, thank..." he sighed. "Thank God."

"Seriously. I mean, I don't know what you're about."

"I thought you were here to... well, you know."

"Uh, _no_, I don't know."

He breathed in and out, then put his elbows on his desk, his fingertips against each other. "The rumour goes, that, well..."

"Yeeees?"

"That you've been promoted to House's personal hitman."

Wait, what?

Haha, holy shit she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Haha, seriously? I mean, _seriously_?"

"Yes."

She burst into laughter. "Oh man, I'm just some kid from the Wastes. I'm sorry, I had no idea." The idea of her being a hitman was downright ridiculous. "You must have been terrified to see me strolling in."

"Well... quite."

Still hiccupping laughter, she said, "If you knew me well, you'd know how silly the very idea is. No, I'm not a hitman. Sorry for laughing but... it's just so ridiculous."

"So you really are here to... just watch a show?"

"Yuh-_huh_. Tommy whatshisface."

"Tommy Torini." He let out another sigh of relief. "I swear, I'd pictured this meeting to end completely differently."

"Tch, no. Why would House want you dead anyway?"

"Hell if I know, but you don't always know if you've pissed someone off, do you?"

"I do. But then, I'm really _really_ thorough when I make someone mad."

"I'll take your word for it. Now, is there anything we can do for you?"

What a strange question. House must have made his point _very _clear indeed. En guessed this was what people meant when they said they had friends in high places. "Uh, no, no. Just don't kick my friend out because of her horrible haircut."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Now then, I hope you enjoy the show? I wasn't exaggerating when I said Tommy Torini and his cats are the bee's knees."

"Cool. Looking forward to it."

He checked his wristwatch. "Well, show's starting in half an hour. If there's nothing else, I'll let you go?"

"No. No, nothing else." She got up and he did the same. As she rose, she cast a brief glance on the frame on Swank's desk. It was a picture of a woman and him, his hands on the shoulders of a young boy. Oh man, the guy must have really thought the clock had struck his last hour.


	51. Recollection

**FIFTY-ONE**

**The Tops Casino**

**July 14****th**

**22:32**

Melissa had dozed off, quietly snoring with her arms crossed and her head half-buried in her jacket, Meyers was savouring his whiskey and enjoying the show like only old people do, and Leza was staring with wide-eyed awe at the dancers and singers, enacting the story of a boy from a polish immigrant gang who falls in love with the sister of the boss of the rival latino gang, with hijinks ensuing. The show had opened with a choreographed dance scene representing a fight, and En had to admit, it had been very well done. Right now the female lead was singing about what was wonderful about America, while her friend sang the praises of their homeland, some place called Portarico or something. It was cheesy and rather camp, but still wonderfully entertaining to see.

En briefly wondered how many beers Leza had already drunk, but she kept quiet. It was, after all, an evening to relax. As long as she didn't drink herself into a smashing day-after hangover, it was all good. And well, maybe the homophobic slurs at Veronica's address weren't a desirable outcome either.

The curtain fell for the intermission.

"More beer?" Leza predictable asked.

"Whiskey please, my lovely," Meyers said, and En asked for another coke, taking care to stress once again that she didn't want that sarsaparilla swill. They'd fooled her once tonight, and that was enough.

"Melissa?" Leza asked.

En elbowed the sleeping Melissa. "Melissa."

"Mm?"

"More beersies?" Leza asked.

"What the balls is a beersie?"

"You know?" Leza said impatiently, holding up her bottle. "These?"

"Oh. Sure, yeah." With a disapproving frown, she quietly added, "Beersies."

During the intermission, four members of the audience were dragged onstage to perform an impromptu play, where one of the audience members, assigned to the role of hero, had to rescue the princess from the Evil Dragon King. It ended up rather catastrophically with the audience member playing the princess slapping the legendary hero Alfred right across the face for doing it all wrong. The rest of the audience was quite amused by the whole spectacle.

Leza came back with the drinks and the second act began, finishing an all-in-all very decent musical performance.

"Wow, that was totally amazing," Leza said dreamily when the show was over. "Must be awesome being an actor or a singer."

"Yep," En agreed. "I liked it too. First time I see an actual musical."

Melissa was less enthusiastic. "Meh. Too much singin' and dancin'. An' no one got their kit off."

"Their what?" En asked.

"Nuthin'."

"Well, I think it was awesome to go see a show together with you guys?" Leza said, draining her sixth beer. En had seen the more experienced people in New Arroyo knock back over ten beers and not even look slightly inebriated, but Watkins was not what one would call experienced. There was no slur in her speech yet, but it wasn't far off.

"So?" she said. "We calling it a night?"

Meyers nodded. "Wise idea. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

"Aw, no," Leza whined. "Come on, let's stay a little longer."

En didn't feel like staying up 'til the small hours, but before she could speak, Meyers second-guessed himself and said, looking at the last bit of scotch in his glass, "I suppose a little longer wouldn't hurt."

"Huh," Melissa remarked. "Look who's here."

Garland had appeared on the theatre floor, accompanied by the blond-haired man, Arcade Ganondorf or whatever his name was. They took a seat at the bar and began talking, apparently about important things. When En saw the blond man giving Garland a small electronic device, she sighed and muttered, "Oh you've gotta be shitting me."

"Summat wrong?" Melissa asked, giving Garland a suspicious look.

"I swear," En said to no one in particular, "this guy's nuttier than a pecan log." She got up. "I need to go talk to him. Be right back."

"Want me to come with?" Melissa said, looking dead serious.

"Mmmno, I think it'll be fine. He's not a psycho, just completely reckless."

"Mm."

She got up and headed for the bar. Garland noticed her and tried to quickly tried to stuff the 'bug thing doohickey' (because it was clear that's what it was) in his sleeve, but too late. "Hey Garland," En said in contained anger. "Mister Arcade."

"Oh, hey kid," Garland replied, trying to appear casual and innocent but failing miserably.

"Yeah. Hey. Whatcha doin'?" she asked with clearly fake cheer.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, just having a drink." And to appear convincing, he added, "Care to join us?"

"Didn't I tell you you were a nut job for trying to bug the 38?"

He grinned sheepishly while Gannon looked away in embarrassment.

"I'm telling you," she said, "this guy will _know_."

He was at a loss of what to say.

"I thought you said you'd wait until I was gone?"

I will, I will. Just… doing the preparatory work."

"I'm telling you," she said, "it's a dumbass plan."

"Yeah. Duly noted."

"Oh hey," Watkins' voice came from behind her. She was holding the empty beer bottles and put them on the bar. "You're Garland, right?"

Garland seemed taken aback by the question. "Uh… yeah."

"I don't think we've been introduced." She held out her hand. "Leza Watkins. Well, it's Melissa, but everyone calls me… you know."

"Yeah uh," Garland said, shaking her hand. "I've heard from you."

"What, from _Veronica_?"

"Yeah. Asked her who you were after seeing you two pull each other's hair out."

"Ha," Watkins sneered. "Right way to say it, in her case. So uh, I heard about you guys doing sneaky stuff at Caesar's fort. Must have been tense?"

Yep, she was hooking him, En could tell by the way his attitude gradually changed. "Well, yeah, but kid here did most of the work, it has to be said."

Sneakily, Watkins shouldered past En to work herself into the foreground. "Ennie didn't say much about it, but I'd, like, love to hear the story?"

That was an outright lie, she'd told Watkins plenty about the whole trip, excluding the nighttime advances, but of course, when it came to finding a reason to start a conversation with a man, any excuse was good for Watkins.

So she silently excused herself and went to sit with her friends a gain.

"Workin' her charms, is she?" Melissa said, nudging her chin at Watkins.

"I swear," En said, sitting down, "she'd rub up to anything that walks on two legs and can grow a beard."

"_Not_ everyone," Meyers remarked bitterly, turning his empty scotch glass in his fingers.

"Yeah, well," En said. "You're like, _old_."

Melissa abruptly stood up, spotting Tommy Torini, the lead actor in the night's musical, walking toward the bathroom. "Hold the fort, yeah? There's somethin' I gotta do."

"Uh… sure?"

Melissa scooted after Torini, grabbing him by the sleeve and talking to him. About whatever it was she needed to talk about. The man proved receptive enough despite Melissa's rather rude way of getting his attention.

"Am I that old to you people?"

"Huh, what?" Meyers' question took her by surprise.

"You just called me 'old'. I don't feel that old?"

"Oh, that. Nah, I'm just kidding. I'm sixteen, remember? Everyone's old to me. I'm guessing the same counts for Watkins."

He sighed, playing with his glass again. "I suspect you're right." He briefly looked up at Watkins, chatting to Garland, seductively leaning on the bar, and then back to his glass.

Okay, now she had to know. "Come on, Meyers. She's like, what, twenty-two? And you're what, ninety-five?"

It got a grin out of him, but it was one with a bitter edge. "I'm only fifty-seven. And it just… seems like such a waste."

En blinked. "What, you being fifty-seven?"

"No. Her."

"Watkins?" Ahh, now she understood what he meant.

"Uh huh."

She couldn't say she didn't share his sentiment a little. "I get what you mean, yeah. But she's her own person and she does with her body what she wants, I suppose."

"True, true, absolutely. But that doesn't mean I can't find it a cryin' shame."

Sure, it was a shame she was so careless and promiscuous, but it was her decision. "I get that, but I mean, you weren't hoping for a…" she cleared her throat, "piece of the action, were you?"

He chuckled without much humour. "No. Not in that sense. Maybe it's just the scotch talking."

Maybe. But maybe it was worth hearing him out over. "Come on, spill it."

"I think she's the most wonderful person I've ever known."

Holy crap, was the old man in love? "What, _her_?"

"_Yes_, her."

"But she's…"

"I know. I know she is, but…" he sighed. "I'm crazy about her, little lady."

"… I see." She had no idea how that could ever be possible. How could anyone possibly fall in love with a girl who saw more men drop their pants than the toilet, she didn't know. But then, hearts worked in strange ways, and you didn't always have control over what you felt. If she had the power to turn off her butterflies form Christopher, she would have too. At least during the time she was away. But still, was Meyers a masochist or something? "You're uh, aware that you're in for a bumpy ride?"

"Oh, believe me, I am. Wish I could just make it go away, but the heart doesn't heed the brain, I'm afraid. Rationally, I know she's a silly ditz, but my emotions choose to ignore it."

"That's a bummer."

"Quite. Anyway, keep it to yourself, here she comes."

"Cool."

Watkins came back to their table, sitting down with the 'new' drinks, which had gone lukewarm in the time it had taken her to butter up Garland, who seemed to have urgent business, downing his drink in one gulp and rushing out with his friend.

"Where they going?"

"Oh, promised to meet with that redhead five minutes ago." With a smirk, she added, "People tend to lose track of time around me?"

At the same time, Melissa came back from wherever she'd gone with the actor guy.

"And what have _you _been up to?"

Melissa only smiled mysteriously. "You'll see."

En couldn't fault her for being unforthcoming with secrets. She loved doing it herself too much. "Fine, be that way."

"Shall we call it a night, ladies?" Meyers asked.

En quickly looked around the table and everyone seemed ready to turn in after the drinks were finished. "Sure, yeah, let's go. Just gotta go take a quick pee."

"Ooh!" Watkins immediately chirped. "I'm coming with, I'm coming with."

"Women," Meyers said wistfully. "Always going to the bathroom in pairs."

"It's so they can gossip," Melissa explained to him.

Meyers only shook his head and sipped his scotch.

When En came into the toilet, Watkins in tow, she immediately noticed the poster on the wall. "Heh, look at that," she said to Watkins, pointing at the poster.

"Wel… come… to… New… Arroyo," Watkins read out loud. "Hey, that's, like, where you're from, right?"

"Uh huh. I heard they were trying to get some tourism income in, but I never thought they'd be hanging posters here." She got a pang of homesickness seeing her hometown, nicely lit at night, the old centre made by the instabuild barracks mostly gone and replaced by brick houses.

"Yeah, seems kinda stupid. I mean, like, a huge tourist attraction like Vegas and you've got a poster of this tiny shitsplat town in the bathroom?"

"Hey," En protested, surprised by her own sudden feeling of patriotism. "That's my hometown you're talking about."

"You're from New Arroyo, miss?" a strange man's voice asked from behind her.

En turned her head and saw a man standing behind her and Watkins, tall, with a square haircut that used to be brown but was going seriously gray. He looked handsome for his age, but there was something about him, a creepiness that sent chills down En's spine. "Uh… yes, but my mommy told me not to talk to strangers."

He ignored her and asked, "How are things in New Arroyo?" He kept his arms crossed, looking at the poster.

"They're… alright."

"Um," Watkins said, her insecurity audible in her voice. "She said she didn't want to talk to – "

"How are Phyllis and Angela?" he asked, still looking at the poster, a strange look in his eyes.

"Phylis and…? They're… uh… okay, but I'm sorry, was there something you needed? Because if not – "

He leaned in, bringing her face closer to En's. "Next time you see them, ask Phyllis if she thinks of me whenever she looks at her hand."

The air stalled in En's throat and she backed away against the other wall. "You… you're…"

"Okay," Watkins half-shouted, trying to intimidate him, "I don't, like, know who you are, but unless you don't get out of here _right now_, I'm gonna…"

Dead calm, the man asked, "Yes?"

Watkins had to think for a moment while En was completely unable to say anything.

"You're going to what?" he asked again, showing no emotion at all.

Watkins' jaw worked for a few seconds, and then she said, "I'll scream _rape_."

He smirked disdainfully, spreading his hands. "I have no defense against such cunning feminine wiles." Then he said to En, "You'll pass my message along, won't you? Ta-ta."

En still didn't have control over her body, so she stood there, open-mouthed and completely mute. His smirk widening into a grin, the man turned and left.

"St… stop him, he's…" En said feebly. "He's…"

"He's what?"

Finally, En's muscles responded again and she ran out of the bathroom, throwing the door open and looking out into the theatre floor, but the man was gone.

"Ennie, what the Hell?"

"Dammit," En cursed, banging her fist against the doorframe.

"Okay, seriously, who was that creep?"

There was no point running after him or getting angry for losing him, so En just let her hands fall to her sides and said to Leza, "Long story."


	52. Thunder Plains

**FIFTY-TWO**

**Lucky 38, high roller suite**

**July 15****th**

**10:19**

"Right, we all ready to go get blown into kibble?"

"Melissa, I told you," En said, "I've thought of something to get around that."

"Which you're not sharing of course," Meyers assumed.

En grinned. "Of course."

Sunny and Ringo emerged from their room at the same time Watkins did, completing the group. "Alright, let's head on down."

Garland emerged from the elevator they wanted to get into, busily talking with Cass. "... so arrange a meeting then. If there's a detective who's done some research on the White Glove Society..." he briefly interrupted himself with a brief "Hey" at En and her group and then went on, "... then we could compare notes, right?" They kept talking, heading down the corridor to their suite. En got a considerably less friendly look from Cass.

"Looks like _he_'s already busy jumping through House's hoops," Sunny remarked, but En ignored the comment. Not today, Sunny.

They emerged in the early morning Vegas sun, on almost empty streets. Here and there a drunk staggered over the pavement or an even bigger drunk lay snoring against the wall, but apart from that, there wasn't a living soul in the street. Strange how a city could be so packed and crowded at night and yet so empty during 'normal' hours.

En checked her Pip-boy and oriented herself, making sure they went in the direction House had indicated. "Alright," she said to the others, "Let's roll."

"Yeah," Leza cheered. "Forward, to yayness!"

"We need to get past a lot of fast-moving explosives first, miss Watkins," Ringo remarked wearily.

"Oh, right," Watkins realized, her enthusiasm only slightly abated. "First getting blown up, then yayness."

"I _told_ you guys," En said with a grin. "We don't need to worry about mortars or mines or missiles or rockets or firecrackers."

"Yeah, course," Melissa chuckled. "After all, it's only a few limbs lost, yeah?"

En punched her in the shoulder. "Shut up and have some trust, you damn skeptic."

"When I'm lying scattered across a wide area, I'll say I told you so."

"The times they are a-wastin', ladies and gentlemen," Meyers announced, shrugging his backpack onto his frail shoulders. The guy would probably have to eat for two more weeks straight if he wanted to get back to a healthy weight.

"Yep," En agreed. "Hi-yo, Silver."

"Awayyyyy!" Leza completed helpfully.

This finally got everyone moving, trudging along at first, but after a while, they were walking at a decent pace. Leaving Las Vegas was always a painful affair, but the securitrons didn't cause any trouble, letting them pass after a quick scan of their passes. En noticed three of the six securitrons had already gotten their upgrade, their cartoon cop faces replaced by cartoon soldiers. House was upgrading his army hell for leather. He'd probably be done by the time they got back from those so-called Boomers. What he'd do then was anybody's guess, but En was pretty sure it was a good idea to stay on his good side, at least for now.

Again she hoped Garland hadn't been such a bull's pizzle to install that bug in his penthouse.

They made good time, better than En had expected, stopping only briefly when Melissa noticed a copse of barrel cacti and found it necessary to squeeze the fruits out into a bottle. After taking a drink of the cactus water and feeling refreshed, En had agreed with her that it had indeed been necessary. After a short break, it had been straight to the marker on her Pip-boy and just after noon, they found themselves standing in front of a shattered road, leading up a small incline and going in between two hills. Those two hills were riddled with blackened craters. Yup, those Boomers meant business. At the road stood a large sign saying, "KEEP OUT! DANGER! TRESPASSERS WILL BE" and then the word "SHOT" was crossed out and in its place had been scrawled "EXPLODED".

An old man whose black skin was so wrinkled he looked like a dried up old prune approached them, giving a wheezy laugh. "Well, well, more travellers comin' to see the Boomers, huh?"

"You're very perceptive," Sunny remarked.

That got another wheezy laugh out of him. His white curls, standing up in ridiculous tufts and his used and worn knit sweater made him look like a mad, retired teacher, with the busted reading glasses hanging from a chain around his neck only reinforcing the effect. "Now it just so happens I've been here a while and I've taken the time to make some notes about the artillery fire you'll be traversin'."

"Looks pretty quiet to me," Leza pointed out.

Another wheezy chuckle. "See that there, miss?" He was pointing at a place between the two cratered hills.

Leza squinted and looked to where he pointed. "... Yeaaahhhh?"

"See that sneaker there?"

"Um... yeah?"

"See the ankle still sticking out of it?"

Leza squinted for a moment longer, then pulled her head back. "Oh, ew, ew, _ew_."

The old man gave her a grin that didn't show a single straight tooth.

"Don't worry," En said. "I'm gonna go through whatever artillery they got with two fingers up my nose."

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Melissa said. "If they blow you up, you'll be a head with two fingers in its nose forever."

"Well they're not gonna blow me up, are they?" En said.

"Says you."

"Nobody's made it through yet, kiddo," the guy with the schoolteacher-look said. "I know kids your age think you're immortal, but yer not. And as I'm sayin' – "

"As I _was_ saying," Meyers corrected.

"... Uh. Yeah, I was sayin', I've studied their pattern and I done figured out the best way to get through the barrage. I might be willin' to part with the secret, but – "

Ringo let out an annoyed sigh. "How much do you want?"

The old guy grinned again. "Just a hundred."

"Might be worth shellin' out for," Melissa said.

"_If_ the information is accurate," Meyers clarified. "I don't like the look of this guy. Seen too many of his type back in my sheriff days."

"Um, haven't you guys been listening?" En said, irritated. "I said I'd get through without a scratch, _geez_."

"Seriously," Sunny said. "Just tell us what you've got planned."

"Tell you? I'll _show_ you." She unzipped the leather jacket Sunny had given her and held it out to her. "Hold this."

"Like, what is _that_?" Watkins blurted out when she saw the stealth suit.

"You'll see." She unbuttoned the fly of the heavy leather pants and gave them to Sunny as well. "I'll be back for those in a minute. Now then." She looked at the broken piece of sloped road leading to the smashed village that stood between her and her destination, a complex of buildings that looked like an airfield. "They start dropping when you pass between those rocks, right?" she asked the old guy.

"Yep, 's exactly how it is."

"Right."

"Miss En, I doubt that even without the weight of your clothes, you'll be able to dodge those blasts. I haven't heard from anyone returning from there," Ringo said.

"Just _trust me_ on this one, okay?" En said. Sure it'd be easier to just tell them what the stealth suit did, but this was so much more fun, and it'd get her so much more attention. She turned to the road between the two rocks. "Right, see you in a sec."

She began running.

As soon as she hit the place where the foot-in-shoe lay, she told the stealth suit to, "Activate stealth function."

"ACTIVATING."

There was a far-away _thwomp_, then a whistling sound that came closer and closer, and then a mortar impacted the ground where she'd stood only two seconds ago, the displacement of air lifting her up and sending her tumbling to the ground. In what must have been a spectacular dive if anyone had been able to see her, she sailed through the air and landed onto the soft earth, tumbling down a small incline until she stopped abruptly when rolling into an old, eaten mattress. It was a miracle she hadn't been hit by shrapnel or debris.

She scrambled to her feet (nothing seemed to be broken), taking care not to send too many puffs of dust up that could give away her position. Her ears were ringing. Okay, so she hadn't timed the stealth mode very well.

"BATTERIES AT THREE-FOURTHS STRENGTH."

Plenty of time. Right now, she still had a good two hundred metres to go, but she could cover that distance before the batteries ran out. She sprinted to the next ruined house she saw, noticing from the corners of her eyes that the amount of torn-apart skeletons was lessening with every metre she made. There were a lot of them though, but they were all old and completely gnawed to bare bone. Seemed the reputation of this place had spread after a while and people had stopped trying to make it through.

She ran on, covering the open ground to another cluster of smashed walls and broken beams. As she reached it, she saw a power armoured boot sticking out behind a mound of rubble. Another _thwomp_ sounded, but from the whistling, En could tell it would be nowhere near the mark. And indeed, it struck at least thirty metres to her left. Haha, the suckers had no idea where she was.

Before she made a beeline for the base, she quickly sneaked past the dirt mound to see who the power armoured boot belonged to.

Turned out the boot and the lower leg in it had once belonged to someone, but not anymore. The rest of the body lay a few metres further, sprawled on its back. The remains of the right leg lay where En was crouching, but the other leg had simply been vaporized from the waist down by the looks of it. She ran half-crouched to the body.

The armour was Brotherhood, a female version, and the person wearing it had gone in helmetless, probably to have a better view of where the mortars fell. She was recently dead, her blood still red and clotting, with cause of death pretty obvious. It was a black young woman in her early twenties, and she looked asleep even though a piece of shrapnel had gone up through her cheek, tearing away the skin under her eye in a red gash and coming out through her forehead, probably taking her eye out with it. Somehow, this one dead person was far worse to see than all the skeletons combined. Probably because she still had a face. Her hair was knotted into tiny braids which had been bound together behind her head.

In an impulse, En tore the dog tags from the girl's neck, the chain snapping with a quiet and sad _tink_.

"BATTERIES AT HALF CAPACITY."

"Shit," she whispered to herself. She'd completely forgotten about that. "Sorry."

"IT'S ALRIGHT."

She broke into a run again, clearing the distance to the last ruin before the gate. She saw him there, the mortar operator, scanning the ruined landscape before him to catch a glimpse of the person he probably thought he'd blasted into pulp, but wasn't certain. She wasn't close enough to see his face yet, but she knew it bore an expression of 'did I get her? I did, didn't I? Yeah, I must have. Or didn't I? No, must have. Better check again'.

"Engage muffler, please."

"MUFFLER ENGAGED. BATTERY DRAIN INCREASED."

Yeah, didn't she know it. One last run though, and she was at the gate. Taking a quick breath, she collected herself, then sprinted the last of the distance to the gate.

"BATTERIES DRAINING. FIELD INTERMITTENT."

As she ran, she saw her arms in the corner of her eye, briefly flickering in and out of visibility. Crap. The mortar operator had seen it too, giving the mortar a pull to aim it at her, but too late.

"Freeze, asshole!"

Her beretta was out, pointed at the artillerist. She saw the doubt in his eyes, his hand on the mortar's firing mechanism.

"Don't do it." Surely he wasn't going to be so crazy? Her bullet would hit him much faster than the mortar could travel, so he wouldn't even see her die. She was only five metres away from him, with only the wire between them both, so she wouldn't miss his head. Not at that distance. Not even her.

"Enough!"

Another voice came from her side, and at ten o'clock stood a woman holding an assault rifle. "Put your weapon down, savage." Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap, this hadn't been in her plans.

"So I can get blown into paste? I don't think so." She was scared to death, but the gun in her hand was her only bargaining chip right now. Her heart beat hard in her chest.

The woman snorted. "What neither you or Lucas seem to realize, is that there's no way that mortar could hit you. You're inside its minimum firing arc. Now put the gun down, girl."

Shit, she was right. She was so close to the mortar it'd simply rocket over her head. But that didn't change anything. "Okay so I don't get blown into chunky salsa. Getting riddled full of holes amounts to the same thing." God dammit once again she'd been too cocky to think things through.

"I WOULD SUGGEST COMPLYING," Stel advised, unasked.

"Raquel," the mortar operator said. "Look. This one's wearing a Pip-boy. Pearl would want to see her."

The woman holding the AKs cocked her head. "That's a Pip-boy alright. Hm. Tell you what, kid. If you put the gun down, I won't blast you full of holes."

En hesitated, licking her lips. It could be just a trick. But if she didn't lower her gun, they'd kill her. One option was certain death, the other was a big risk. But better to take a risk than die for certain.

"I'll count to three, kid, and then I'm emptying my entire clip into you."

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Raising one hand, she lowered the beretta. "Alright, alright."

The woman kept her assault rifle trained on her. "Good choice. Now walk on in through the gate. No sudden moves."

"Sure, yeah. Take it easy."

"If I didn't take it easy, you'd be a leaky piece of meat right now."

"Good point." She calmly walked in through the gate, past the artillery operator and towards the woman holding the assault rifle.

"So how the Hell did you run through that artillery barrage?" the mortar operator asked when she passed him.

"My secret," was all she said. The guy had tried to blow her into bloody morsels, and now he expected her to tell him how she'd made it through? Don't think so, jerkoff.

She was standing in Boomer territory now. With the business end of an assault rifle pointed at her, true, but she'd made it nonetheless. And she guessed if she didn't pull any dangerous moves, she'd be able to talk her way out of this pickle too.

"Go on," the woman nudged her assault rifle at one of the barracks at the edge of the airport. "Move it, kid. Pearl will decide what to do with you."

Whoever Pearl was, En doubted he or she'd be less friendly than this woman.

She trudged to the barrack, the assault rifle still pointed at her back (she didn't see it but oh boy, she knew it was there), taking a good look at her surroundings. There were small barracks set next to two large hangars. It was an airport alright. Or no – an air force base. On one of the hangars was an emblem she recognized from pre-war films, a stylized blue-and-silver logo of a star sprouting two wings. The old United States Air Force. On the far side of the hangars were several more barracks, these with rounded roofs, looking like big inverted half-pipes.

The woman with the AKs took her to the closest barrack. When they were in front of the door, she said, "Put your pistol on the ground."

There was little harm in that, En supposed. Holstered or on the ground, it was unusable either way. "I'll get this back when I leave, right?"

"_If_ you leave."

"Yeah."

"BATTERIES AT ONE FOURTH CAPACITY," the stealth suit informed her. Hmmm, in case she needed to get away, it would indeed be handy to know how the batteries were doing. The suit sure wasn't a moron. But that didn't mean she'd get far with only one fourth battery power. She wouldn't even make it to the gate before the stealth field gave out again, and then she'd be cut down by assault rifle bullets, and if she miraculously survived that, the mortar would get her before she'd make it past even half of the shelling area. So she took her pistol out of its holster ("_Slowly!_") and let it drop to the ground.

"Any other weapons?"

"Not apart from my irresistible charm."

"Don't get smart. You can go talk to Pearl, but I'll be watching you."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will be."

"Knock on the door."

She did as she was told, and a raspy woman's voice called, "Enter?"

"Go on in. And be quiet unless you're spoken to."

Yeah, yeah.

She opened the door and found herself in a gloomy barrack, illuminated only by the outside light that fell in through the windows in pale yellow shafts, dust twirling inside them. She heard the guardswoman close the door behind her.

"Yes, who is it?"

En turned to the woman behind her. "Does this count as being spoken to?"

"I told you not to get smart."

Yeah she told her, but getting smart was what En did. She cleared her throat and said, "Uh, hi." Her eyes slowly adapted to the lack of light, and she saw an old woman sitting on the worn leather couch in the centre of the room. There were bookcases against the walls and a desk that seemed to see regular use. The old woman was wearing what looked like a vault suit, only with a leather jacket over it and a sort of shell necklace around her neck. "I'm uh, I'm En. I'm uh... I made it through your mortars."

"So I see," the old woman said, leaning forward. "Let me take a look at you, child. Come closer." The voice wasn't at all unfriendly, unlike the woman behind her. "What did you say your name was?"

"It's uh, it's En."

"Ah, Anne. Lovely name."

"No, no. Not Anne. Just En."

"Mind your manners," the woman behind her snapped.

"I _am_ minding my manners," En shot back. "Just saying, my name's En and not Anne."

The old woman chuckled. "You must forgive Raquel for her zeal in protecting this community. We've had... bad experiences with the outside world."

"Outside world's had some pretty bad experiences with you too. With the whole blowing up of innocent people and all."

The next thing she felt was a wooden gun stock being clubbed over her head. She heard the _thwock_ as the stock connected with her skull and her knees gave out. A second later, her head began pounding with pain and she clapped her hands over her skull. "_Ow!_ God dammit!"

"Ra_quel_!" the old woman admonished, indignant. "That was uncalled for."

With her eyes screwed closed, En heard the woman say a grudging, "Sorry. It's just... no manners."

"Raquel," the old woman said, calmer now. "I appreciate all you do for me, but I'm sure I can handle a conversation with this child alone. Why don't you join Lucas at the perimeter, dear?"

Raquel stood looking at En in silence for a few moments, then stomped out the barrack.

"Now then, child. Sit down. I do apologize for Raquel's conviction. She's our head of security, and she takes her job very seriously." With a chuckle, she added, "And very personally."

"So it seems. Augh, my head."

"Tea?"

"Uh... no thanks."

The old lady smiled. "I really do think you should try some."

"Uh... fine, I guess." Might not be polite to refuse again.

"Banana yucca scone?"

"... Sure."

This reception was the complete opposite of the one she'd gotten at the perimeter. What strange people.

"My name's Mother Pearl," the woman said, "and the people of this base see me as... well, their elder, I suppose you could say." She poured some tea in a second cup. Why did she have a second cup on her coffee table if she wasn't expecting anyone? "I believe the outside world calls us the Boomers," she briefly looked up and En gave her a confirmatory nod, "and I suppose it's as good a name as any."

"They uh... call you Boomers because you blow up everyone who sets foot in your mortar range."

"Indeed. This may seem harsh to you, child, but there are clear warning signs. Those who ignore them never have good intentions."

"Um," it might be a bad idea to start acting all finger-wagging, but it had to be said. "Some might. Other people might just be curious. Or they might think the sign's old and not relevant anymore."

The woman looked pensive, and En knew she was seriously listening to what she said. "We always fire a warning shot," she said. "So that should scare any simply curious people away."

"Uh, I'm not sure about that," En said. "Some people seem to have been hit with a mortar right when they passed the warning signs."

The old woman stroked her chin. "Indeed. I'll bring this up with Lucas. I specifically told him to fire warning shots first. He protested that we'd save on mortars by firing to kill straight away, but I told him that was unacceptable. It's good that you brought this to my attention."

"And um, are you aware you've killed a Brotherhood member?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The woman in power armour. She was part of the Brotherhood of Steel. Not exactly a bunch of looters." Unless you have some really good tech.

She nodded gravely. "Raquel informed me of it. It's unfortunate, but like Raquel, Lucas takes his responsibilities very seriously."

En wrung her hands, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck with this woman. "Maybe the whole blow-people-up-for-even-approaching-tactic isn't the most just way to protect yourselves?"

She was silent for a moment. "I'll think on what you said. But for now, all the outsiders we've seen have been savages, destructive people bent on doing us harm. Perhaps with your arrival, this might change. Are you a savage, child?"

"Uh... define 'savage'?"

"Drink your tea, child. Let me rephrase. Are you one of the people bent on hurting us or stealing from us?"

"Uh... no." En took a sip from her tea. It was scalding hot, but it didn't taste half bad. A sort of sweet, flowery flavour. "I'm actually here to talk to you. Make like, a business proposition."

The woman's wrinkly forehead knotted into a frown. "You mean, try to take advantage of us."

"No, no," En said hastily. "Just propose something. Ask for your help, maybe, but to everyone's benefit."

Her eyes stayed narrow. "I'm listening, child, but our experiences with propositions from outsiders have been the same as our experiences with the outsiders themselves."

Right. "Well, you may have heard of Caesar's Legion?"

"Hmmm. I seem to remember Raquel mentioning them."

"They're a huge army of slave drivers, really. Murdering, looting, enslaving, raping scum." The corners of the old woman's mouth went down at the direct language. "Right now they're trying to cross the Hoover Dam. If they do, and they seize it, then – "

"Then all you savages will fight each other, like you always do, with the only difference being who wins." Pearl interrupted. "I don't see what that has to do with us."

"Well," it was time for some well-constructed semi-truths. "We know that once the Legion's done destroying the NCR and butchering us all, they intend to capture this base."

The woman laughed. "You've seen what our mortars can do. If we can blow up one, we can blow up a hundred."

"True," En said. "But can you blow up a thousand? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand?"

The old woman was silent.

"The things they'll do to you and your people... Well, it'll be no different than what they'll have done to us by then."

Pearl's mouth narrowed to a stripe. "Eat your scone, child. Now, you must understand that we're somewhat... sceptical to an outsider barging in and telling us we need to ally ourselves with a group of savages we don't know – because that _is_ what you're going to ask. Or am I wrong?"

En wrung her hands nervously. "Well, no. I suppose not. But pushing back the Legion would benefit us all in the long run." She took a bite of her scone. It had a sugary lemon flavour, not at all unpleasant. It was yummy, even.

"I'll have to think about this. After all, we have no idea who you are. You might be telling us lies."

"M-hm. I strolled through a mortar field to pull a prank on you."

"Your snide tone does not become you, child."

"I'm just sayin'. It's not very logical, is it?"

"The outside world has a strange logic. Nothing surprises me anymore." She was silent for a moment, finishing her tea. "I'll need some time to think about this. In the meantime, you have free run of the base, but without your weapon. Perhaps if you see some people you can assist around the base, I might find you more credible."

Right. Do some menial shit chores for us and we'll take you seriously. En supposed this kind of crap was inevitable. But for the five thousand caps that awaited her in Vegas, she was willing to dry some dishes or clean a toilet or two. "Okay, sure, I'll have a look around, see if I can help anyone."

She nodded. "I believe Raquel requires assistance with an insect problem, or you could assist in the medical barrack. And I believe Loyal had something he needed help with too."

Hm, offering help to this Raquel chick wasn't very high on her favourites-list. "Um... who's Loyal?"

"Oh, you'll find him in the hangar. He's almost my age, but heh, he'll never catch up with me, no matter how hard he tries, bless him."

"Right, I'll go see him."

En had to squint against the glare of the sun when she found herself outside of Pearl's barrack again. The chick with the assault rifle stood waiting. "So? When are you outta here?"

"Grandma said I could stay as long as I liked."

She let out a gruff sigh. "Perfect."

"Said I should check with you, that you needed help or something?" She really didn't feel like helping her out, but wasn't any harm in asking.

"Help? From _you_?"

"Yes. Help. From me."

She sighed again. "Suppose it wouldn't hurt. There's big-ass ants in the generator room. They chew on the power cables, basically ruin everything. I'd flush 'em out, but there's a lot of them and we already lost someone when we went in the first time."

"Ouch. Ants of Unusual Size, huh?"

"Exactly. Loyal was working on something that could wipe them out, but he was stuck last time I heard. Might wanna check with him."

"I was heading there anyway. Cool."

"Word of warning, kid," Raquel said before En could turn away. "You do _anything_ I might see as disrespectful or aggressive, and I'm shooting you. We clear?"

"Yeah, yeah." Her whole 'we don't trust outsiders'-shtick was getting old.

"Go on, off with you."

En settled for an exaggerated eye-roll after turning around.


	53. Junk Modulation

**FIFTY-THREE**

**Nellis Air Force Base**

**July 15****th**

**14:08**

"Your face looks funny."

"Tch. Your face looks full of snot," En said back at the little girl who'd waddled up to her to give her this piece of valuable information. She crouched in front of the little girl and wiped the boogers off her upper lip with a tissue. "There."

"Are you from, like, outside?"

"Uh huh."

The girl swayed from side to side, holding her doll to her chest. "Why?"

"Uh... I just am."

"Why?"

Ugh, kids and they why's all the time. "I was born there."

A woman came running, scooping up the child. "Don't talk to strangers, Lynnie, I told you so many times." She flashed an angry glare at En. "I don't know who let you in here, but if I see you near my child again, then so help me God."

Great. More drama. "Geez lady, don't get your panties in a twist. I was just – "

"Don't talk back to me, savage." Then she told her child, "These are bad people, Lynnie, Dirty people. I don't want you going near them."

En ignored the woman and waved at the child, fluttering with her fingers. "Bye little girl."

The child buried her face in her mother's shoulder, grinning and quietly going, "Bye bye."

"Don't speak to my daughter, _savage_," the woman snapped. Then she turned on her heels, taking her child back to one of the barracks.

"Sorry 'bout that," a man said, standing behind her. "Some of the people, they're a bit... mistrustful."

"Y'think?" En said back.

The man shrugged, somewhat awkwardly. He was a handsome guy with half-long dark blond hair in his mid-twenties, wearing a flight suit like almost everyone else. "Disadvantages of growing up in a sheltered environment. But hey, since you're from the outside, could I ask a favour?"

Of course. _Everybody_ needed favours. Still, helping out would mean a more favourable opinion from these people, and by extension, that Pearl woman, and by extension, five thousand caps. "Uh, yeah, whatcha need?"

He looked down with an embarrassed grin, tapping the tip of his foot into the dirt. "It's uh... well, I've been looking out at the outside world for a while, you know, with my binoculars, and, well... there's this girl who works at a place called Crimson Caravan – I _think_, I saw it painted on a sign there, works the fields, and well, I was wondering if..."

En chuckled. "Say no more. So what's your Juliet look like?"

His eyes widened and he eagerly asked, "You know her name?"

Was he serious? Oh dear, he was. "Uh, no... I meant, because of Romeo and Juliet... the story... ergh, nevermind. What's she look like?"

He was visibly disappointed that she didn't actually know who it was. "Uh... she's got this fiery red hair, in a sort of messy haircut. And she's really pretty."

"Yeah, I gathered that. Um... if I pass by the Crimson Caravan, I'll see if I can find her. You want me to deliver a message probably, right?"

He nodded, his cheeks red. "A few times, well, she works the fields, right? And I saw her looking back at me. I _think,_ because she doesn't have binoculars or anything, but I can really see her looking right at me. So yeah."

"So yeah, what?"

"Can you um... I dunno. Just... y'know. I dunno."

"If you dunno, then I dunno either, dude."

"Ah, you know, _man_, say I think she's real cute and ask her if she, you know..."

"No, I _don't_ know." She was acting impatient with the guy, but she was actually having fun seeing him trip over his own words.

"Come on, you know what I mean. If she thinks I'm, well..."

"... yes?"

"... Come on, you know! ... Good-looking."

"Heh. Riiight. Sure, I'll ask if I get the chance. And who should I say is calling?"

"Calling?"

Oh dear, he was really head over heels. "It's an expression. Who should I say you are?"

"Oh! Right! My name's Jack. Just uh... just make sure she doesn't come here on her own or she'll well, you know."

"Get blown into bloody chunks."

He winced at the thought. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"It's cool. So hey, I need to find this guy called Loyal. Any idea where he might be?"

"Oh, sure," the guy said, his face lighting up, glad the embarrassment was over with. "I'm his assistant. Come on, I'll show you."

She followed Jack to the farthest of the two hangars. As she trudged after him, she wondered what Garland was up to. Was his detective job going as well as her assignment? Probably not since the guy was probably a crack shot with plenty of charisma, but he was a reckless bonehead too. She wondered what the job was about though. Murders, probably. Or disappearances? It was probably something exciting. Or not.

They walked between the two hangars, in a narrow walkway. There was a heavy steel door set in the side of the hangar, and Jack turned the wheel to open it. "This way, miss...?"

"En."

He gave her a confused look after hearing the name, but didn't ask the perennial Anne-question. Good. He stepped aside and let her go on. "After you."

"Thanks."

En's eyes had to adapt to the gloom before she could clearly make out the interior of the hangar. It looked even bigger on the inside than from the outside, with crates and toolboxes and all kinds of junk stacked up against the walls, and the central area mostly clear apart from... holy shit a plane. And not just any plane. One marked with military colours. En didn't know much about planes as such, but this looked like the kind she'd seen in pre-War magazines – not the ones who did dogfights in the air, but one of those who just flew above cities and rained down bombs on them.

"Damn... does that still work?"

"Uh, nope," Jack said, suddenly becoming very evasive. "Loyal just... likes to tinker with it. Says it puts him at peace." It felt like a lie. He called out, "Loyal?"

"Yeah?" came a voice from somewhere in the hangar.

"Someone here to see you. Asks if she can help with the solar array."

"Oh, jolly!" A head popped up from behind one of the crate stacks. "Been a while since we've had any outsiders here."

"He seems okay with it," En remarked to the guy standing next to her.

"Yeah don't worry. Loyal's totally cool."

The old man briskly strode over to them, grinning from ear to ear. He was holding a wrench and didn't seem inclined to put it down, as if it had fused with his hand through overuse. "Welcome to Nellis AFB, young lady. So you wanna help out huh?"

He held out his hand and even though it was almost black with oil and grease, En shook it nonetheless. Always a good idea to show people you didn't find them dirty if you wanted something from them. Besides, she'd spent plenty of days up to her elbows in grease too. "Yeah, Pearl said I should come see you."

He wiped his hands with a rag that was just as greasy (after shaking her hand, how thoughtful) and explained, "Yeah. Got some problems with the solar arrays. Don't know how it happened, but a few of them got busted up and I really don't have the time to prance all the way up there to fix 'em. 'Sides, I ain't comfortably headin' up there with all the ants."

"Oh yeah, Raquel said something about that. Said you were working on a way to deal with them?"

"Yup, that I am." He motioned for her to follow him. "I'm thinkin', they hate sounds with a certain frequency, right? So if I were to make a device that imitated that sound, maybe they'd stop comin'. They'd pop up somewhere else, but at least they'd be outta the generator room."

"Wait... I thought they were in the solar array?"

The man gave a wheezy chuckle. "The solar array's built on top of the generator room, kiddo."

"Oh. Right, yeah, makes sense."

"So if you wanna do both at the same time, wipe out the ants and fix the solar panels, you can. You any good with repairin' stuff?"

"I'm the best," En boasted, feeling a sense of pride well up inside her. It'd been a while since she'd been able to show off her mechanic skills.

"Ha! Well, you sure got the right attitude," Loyal remarked. "I just need to cobble this whole sound amplifier thing together, but I'm kinda stumped. I think I got the frequency right, but I'm havin' some trouble hookin' up the speakers. Lackin' an amplifier, for starters."

"An amplifier?" En said. And as always, ideas began to form in her head. "Tch, that's _easy_."

"That so?" Loyal asked, crossing his arms and giving her a curious look. Then he swept his arm around the hangar. "My hangar's yours, use anything you want."

"You got it." She made a beeline for the bomber and rolled the ladder up to the cockpit. When she climbed up, she heard Loyal say, "Whoa missy, don't go breakin' anythin' up there."

"Nope. Just borrowing. You needed an amplifier, right?"

"Well, yes, but..."

She held out her hand, standing on top of the ladder. "Screwdriver, please. Phillips head, size 10."

She heard the sound of a tool box being ransacked, and a cold plastic haft was placed in her hand. She took a look at it and promptly gave it back. "This is a size 11."

Loyal's embarrassed voice came from below. "It's the uh... closest we've got."

With a chuckle, En made do with what she had, unscrewing the bomber's radio system. It was kinda tricky with the wrong size screwdriver, but still possible. She took out the radio and held it out to Loyal, feeling it being taken from her hands. "Amplifier, right there."

As she descended the ladder, she saw Loyal looking at the radio with a bummed face. Jack had wandered off.

"Aw don't worry, it only takes, like, ten seconds to install it again."

He sighed, still looking at the radio. "I s'pose."

"So where's your mystery device?"

Loyal showed her where it was, a contraption looking decently put together, but only half-complete. Together, they tinkered with it, attaching the bomber's radio to it to use as an amplifier, and soldering a few wires to the speakers. When they were done, En said, "You know, if they hate that frequency, it means it causes them like, physical discomfort, right?"

"I... would imagine so, yeah," Loyal replied, unsure why she asked.

"That means, if you were to boost the signal..."

His eyes lit up. "It might even hurt or kill them."

"M-hm. I'm pretty sure this amp can pump out a few decibels if we let it. I mean, this had to be loud enough to shout over the engines of the plane, right?"

"M-hm. M-hm."

"So right now, this thing goes like _pow_. When we crank it up, it'll go like _PIDDLY-PAOW_!"

"Err... if you say so."

"Let's see how loud it goes," En said eagerly, pressing the makeshift power switch and turning the cobbled-together volume knob. They'd built them out of spare parts, so the power switch was a big white wall switch, and the volume know was an old oven dial. As En turned the volume higher, they could feel a sort of vibration in their chests. She turned even further and the feeling became positively uncomfortable. "Y'know what?" En said. "I think this is gonna murder the crap out of those ants."

"I think so too, missy. Damn, I gotta say, that's impressive."

En picked up the device. "It's bug stompin' time."

"If you're headin' out there," Loyal said, "Take this too." He produced a sports bag full of what looked like tiles of mirrored plastic. "Replacement parts for the solar array."

"Cool."

"Hey kiddo, you goin' there like this?"

"Like what?"

"Weaponless?"

"Oh. Yeah, Raquel's got my weapon."

"That's a load of crap." He disappeared behind another stack of crates and came back with an M-4 carbine. "My personal treasure. Need something to defend yourself with, don't you?"

"Yep, I guess. Better to have one and not need it than need one and not have it."

"My thoughts exactly. Go on, take her with you. I'll deal with Raquel if she gets ornery."

"Cool, thanks."

He held up a finger. "Girl, watch out for those ants now, you hear. They already killed one of our people, wouldn't want to see another young life wasted."

"I'll be careful."

It was early evening when she emerged from the hangar, and she bumped right into – of course – Raquel. "Outsider, what are you doing with that weapon?" she shouted, mortified.

"Carrying it on my back."

"Don't get smart with me," she threatened. "Hand it over, right now."

"Yeah, no. I'll need it to protect myself from those ants. Loyal said it was okay and that you should go complain to him if you got ornery."

"_Ornery_? How dare – "

En shrugged. "It's what he said."

Raquel looked at the iron door for a moment, then let out a frustrated "Hmph" and said to En, "Fine. But I'm watching you."

"Knock yourself out."

"In fact," she said, still angry, "I'm coming with you."

"What, to baby-sit me?"

"_Yes_."

"Fine. You can show me the way then."

The walk to the solar array-slash-generator room was silent and the tension could be cut with a knife. Still, better to have two guns instead of one if things got ugly. Though En wondered how dangerous a bunch of oversized ants could get. The statue girl had once killed a bunch of them using only a spear and wearing nothing but some tribal leather, and all she'd gotten out of it were a few gashes in her foot. The guy who'd died in that generator room had probably taken a bad step and broken his neck or something.

The outline of a solar array stood against the horizon, the sun at their backs, getting ready to set. "There it is," Raquel said redundantly. It was the first thing she'd said since they'd left.

"You don't say."

That ended the conversation even before it had started, and they reached the solar array without saying another word. En gently put the solar panel parts down on the roof and said, "I'm supposed to fix this junk too. I'd like to do that first while I still have the light."

The light wasn't really relevant since the old guy had helpfully put a flashlight in between the parts, along with some tools, but a chance to spite the uppity woman couldn't be left untaken. A diabolical part of En looked forward to hearing her huff and puff in impatience as she fixed the solar panels as slowly as she could. It'd be too late and too ignominious for her to turn back after being such a hardass about accompanying her, so she'd be stuck, bored out of her wits. Muahaha.

"What, you wanna fix these things _now_?" Hee hee, yep, that's it. Right now.

"M-hm. Can't do it in the dark, can I?"

Raquel grunted in anger and flung herself down on a ledge, leaning against the wall of the generator bunker. "Hurry it up, will ya?"

"Of course." Not.

En got to work, at a leisurely pace. Most of the solar panels were dinged but still usable. Some had their silicon panels knocked out by flying debris or whatever, and those could be easily replaced by taking them out and installing the spare ones. A few were smashed almost beyond repair, but En did what she could, rerouting some wires to make sure all the spare parts were put to use, even if it meant leaving some panels only half-complete. It'd probably work much better than before now, so nobody should complain about a few aesthetic imperfections.

"You just about done?" Raquel asked, having crept up behind her as she fixed the last panel.

"Shit!" En breathed with a jump. "You scared the snot out of me."

"Can we go now?" No sorry or any other form of acknowledgment. Well, she had it coming, she supposed.

"Yeah sure. Fine." She got up and clicked the last of the spare panels in place.

"C'mon. Let's get this over with so I can go home and leave you to whatever the Hell it is you do."

Whatever the Hell I do will be racking up five thousand caps, you bitter xenophobe.

They trudged to the door and Raquel punched in a code, taking care En didn't see the keys she tapped. Yeah, after all, she might try and get into a place she was supposed to get into to kill giant ants for this bunch.

The door opened with a pneumatic hiss and a yellow rotating light flashing overhead.

Only emergency lighting was on in the bunker, and the room they were in had metal instabuild walls, a deactivated power console set against the wall, and another doorway that led to a walkway that looked to be suspended above a much deeper floor. Which seemed to be moving though it wa shard to tell in the darkness. "Indy... why does the floor move?"

"The ants are on the lowest level. I think if we're real quiet," Raquel whispered, "we can get close without them noticing us."

"Aren't we supposed to _not_ get close?" En whispered back.

"Yeah, yeah, but if you wanna plant that noise-maker, you need to get close to their mound before the whole nest comes after you."

"Hm. True. I'm gonna let you in on a secret, but you need to promise not to tell, okay?"

Raquel rolled her eyes in the gloom. "I'm sure it'll be such a great secret that I'll have trouble keeping it inside."

Yeah, yeah, be sarcastic. "Stel, activate stealth mode and muffler."

"STEALTH MODE ACTIVATED. MUFFLER ACITVATED."

Raquel's eyes went wide. "So _that's_ how you got past the artillery?"

"Yep. Now shut up, these batteries don't last forever."

Amazingly, Raquel did as she was told.

"Get ready to like, cover me in case those buggers come at me, okay?"

To her credit, Raquel gave a curt nod, and her face determined, she said, "Yeah." She didn't seem like she'd just let En get chewed to paste.

"Okay, here I go." Slowly, she went through the doorway and found herself on the suspended walkway, the floor beneath her at least ten metres lower. The walkway went to the far wall, then descended into a square-spiralling staircase going about halfway down, then the walkway inexplicably went on in a straight line, back to the wall it had originated from, and then finally, the stairs descended again to the ground level.

Why the Hell did people build walkways like these?

She quickly but quietly floated across the walkway, down the first set of stairs, and back to the other side. She quickly looked up and saw Raquel slowly creeping forward, much slower than En because it was far more difficult for her to stay quiet. En had reached the second set of stairs and crept down, holding the bug-zapper, as she'd named the acoustic device, in front of her. The zapper was visible, but that was all, bobbing along at shoulder height as if held up by an unseen force – which kinda was the case, actually.

She slowed down and sneaked down the last flight of stairs. Because of the gloom, she finally got a good look at the floor, and why it was moving. Ants crawled along it, giant varieties the size of a small dog, their heads set with mean pincers, which looked like they could tear a nice chunk out of someone.

En didn't think the statue girl had fought ants _this_ big with only a spear. Holy shit. She swallowed and stopped for a moment.

"BATTERIES AT 50 PERCENT."

God dammit those things drained fast. No time to take a breath. She crept forward, quickly charting a path between the crawling ants, to the mound, which only lay a few metres away. Dammit, she now understood why one of those Boomers had croaked here. And just as she thought of it, she saw a clean-picked fresh skeleton from the corner of her eye. The remnants of bomber jacket strewn around near the body made it pretty clear who this had used to be.

She did _not_ want to end up like that.

She carefully lifted her foot and laid it down next to one of the chittering insects, wincing when she saw it skitter forward, missing her foot by a few centimetres. Holy Hell that was close.

She'd almost reached the mound. "BATTERIES AT THIRTY PERCENT. ESTIMATED TIME OF WITHSTANDING ATTACKS FROM INSECTS, ZERO-POINT-THREE-TWO-FIVE SECONDS."

Cute, Stel. Very cute. Though if En didn't know any better, she could swear the suit sounded afraid.

She got another step closer.

"BATTERIES AT TWENTY PERCENT. CAN WE _PLEASE_ GET OUT OF HERE?" Yeah, the suit sounded scared. Just a little longer, Stel. Her heart beat hard in her chest. There was a sudden sting in her shoulder and her heart slowed and she felt herself calming down. "ADMINISTERING LIGHT TRANQUILLIZER. EN, PLEASE PUT THAT THING DOWN AND GET US OUT OF HERE."

Even as the tranq calmed her down, Stel began to sound positively terrified, even going so far as to use her name. En stooped and put the bug zapper down, but as her finger reached for the button, Stel pleaded, "BATTERIES FAILING, STEALTH FIELD INTERMITTENT. WE HAVE TO GO _NOW_."

The stealth field failed, and En saw her own arm becoming visible as she shifted her hand from carrying the zapper to pressing its button. _SHIT!_

En quickly jabbed her finger down on the zapper's activation button and began running, not realizing she'd already dodged the first of the snaps the ants' jaws made at her. She sprinted back to the stairs, evading the pincers on pure luck as the ants all tried to converge on her, and more emerged from the mound.

As she bounded towards the stairs, she heard the dry cracks of an AK being fired, but she couldn't see where the shots hit, all she thought about was _making it to the god damn stairs_! And she almost did, coming within two metres of the metal steps before her foot got caught on the warped xylophone of the dead Boomer's ribcage and she keeled over, crashing down right on top of one of the ants, its thorax snapping under her weight, killing it stone dead with a wet screeching sound. She rolled over to her back, making more of the dead ant's exoskeleton crunch under her, and raised the M4, pulling the trigger. The assault rifle bucked in her hands, the muzzle flashes lighting up the gloomy generator room. She crawled backward, firing another salvo and tearing apart one of the ants that had skittered on top of her legs and looked ready to lunge straight at her face. She heard the cracks of the AK again and scampered to her feet, trying to reach the stairs and succeeding this time. She backed up the stairs, firing into the multitude of ants that skittered after her, yet more emerging from the mound. Crap crap crap crap.

She backed up again, firing another burst into the ants, accompanied by cracks of the AK. But as she blindly set her feet down on the stairs, she missed a step, her foot going through the opening between the steps and sending her down on her back, the M4 sweeping through the air in a wide arc, still firing. Her ankle exploded with pain, caught between the steps and the muscles in her leg felt like they were torn to shreds. Despite the pain and her awkward position, she brought Loyal's M4 to bear again and fired, emptying the clip so the last sound the weapon made was a cold _click_.

She was dead now.

"IT HAS BEEN A PLEASURE TRAVELLING WITH YOU," Stel said into her earbud, consigned to her fate of being shredded by ant mandibles, soaked with En's blood and flayed off her body.

The ants came at her, and she closed her eyes... but nothing happened. When she opened them again, she saw the ants were all ailing on the ground, looking dead drunk. Some lay on their backs, their legs slowly making circles in the air, others seemed to be unable to support themselves anymore, lying down on their bellies, their mandibles feebly snapping at the air.

Right, the bug zapper! Haha, holy shit the bug zapper had got them! She clumsily got up, extricating her foot from between the steps and climbed, holding the railing and supporting herself on it to take the weight off her probably sprained ankle.

Oh, shit, Raquel!

The Boomers' security officer lay sprawled on the walkway, one leg hanging over the edge. What the Hell? En scampered up the stairs as fast as her aching ankle allowed and saw her lying down, her AK next to her.

Punched in her chest were two bullet holes.

Oh crap.

"Shit, Raquel, oh my god!"

The woman opened her eyes and had to force them to focus on En. "That... better have been an... accident."

"Oh shit, Raquel I'm sorry!"

Raquel managed to force a grin, her teeth red with blood. "Knew you... punk ass kid would be... death of me."

"Hold on Raquel, I'll get help, I'll – "

"Too late. Need to see... sky. Drag me."

"Oh shit, okay, okay."

En grabbed the woman under her shoulders and began dragging her up the stairs, down the walkway and through the antechamber. Her ankle screamed in pain and her muscles burned, but she gritted her teeth and kept dragging. "Almost there, Raquel."

"Ennhhh..."

Another effort and she'd reached the door, briefly letting one hand go and slapping it on the switch, making the door slide open. The sun had almost set , and stars were already visible in the twilight sky.

Her strength close to giving out, En lowered Raquel's upper body as gently as she could, laying it down on the soft earth. Raquel raised her hand feebly to the sky and croaked, "Sorry... sky... was hoping... but... won't... ever... fly now." Her eyes, barely able to keep focus, rolled towards En. "Ask Loyal... about the Lady... make her fly... it's... the least... you can...do... tell him... I said it's..."

She didn't finish her sentence and her arm fell to the ground.

En was alone.


	54. Unrest

**FIFTY-FOUR**

**Nellis Air Force Base, solar panel array**

**July 15****th**

**21:01**

"Your interior lining needs a sweat absorber, Stel."

"I AM A STEALTH SUIT, NOT A STILLSUIT."

"True that." Despite the rapidly dropping temperature, the exertion of burying Raquel's body had made the sweat trickle from En's brow and down her back, making the suit's lining feel uncomfortably soggy. But a soggy suit was better than two holes in the chest.

She'd killed someone this time. Not in self defence, not someone who had to, or deserved to die. Someone _decent_.

"I'm sorry Raquel," En said with a sigh. "I really am."

Raquel wouldn't patrol the perimeter anymore. Wouldn't bitch to Pearl about letting strangers inside. Wouldn't drop down on the bed in her barracks and think about guys (or _a_ guy), or sing off-key in the bath. Raquel was dead. And it was her fault.

"HEATING ELEMENTS ACTIVATED."

Stel's digital voice pulled her from her thoughts. It _was_ getting pretty cold, and now that the exertion of digging was over, the sweat on her forehead felt ice cold as the wind cooled her down. A pleasant warmth began to spread from her lower back, upwards and then around her torso, enveloping her entirely as Stel's heating elements warmed up. The suit was a god damn miracle. "Thanks, Stel."

"NO PROBLEM." For being an artificial intelligence, the suit knew eerily well when to give its wearer some quiet.

"I guess we should head on back."

"YES. THE HEATING ELEMENTS ONLY FUNCTION FOR JUST OVER TWO HOURS UNTIL THE BATTERIES ARE DRAINED."

Whatever these people said, she was going to see her friends now. To see if they're alright and to let them know she was alright too. They were probably worried.

She began the hike back to the Nellis AFB hangars to inform Loyal of the news, dreading the moment when he'd ask what had happened to Raquel. She had no idea how she was going to say it, without getting blamed or punished for it.

The AFB hangars came closer as she walked, her only company the artificial intelligence programmed into the suit she was wearing, and it was quiet save for a few words ("BATTERIES AT THREE FOURTHS CAPACITY") during the entire walk, leaving her alone with her thoughts. A feeling of immense guilt had settled in the pit of her stomach. Raquel had hated her guts and the feeling had been kinda mutual, but still. She hadn't been a bad person, just someone doing what she thought was right.

She reached for the door to Loyal's hangar. Time to pay the piper.

"Well hello there, kiddo," Loyal exclaimed from between the boxes of tools he was organizing when he saw her come in. "Success?"

"Uh... yeah," En said, trying to appear as cheerful as possible. "Solar panels repaired and ants brain-cooked." She put the empty sports bag and the M4 on his workbench.

He sighed in relief. "That's good news, missy. I figured you'd be alright though. Jack saw you wanderin' off with Raquel, so I knew you were in good hands."

"... Yeah..."

Loyal cocked his head at her. "Somethin' wrong, missy?"

_Come on, you have to do this._

"Raquel, she..."

His face told her he already knew what she was going to say.

"She died. I'm... sorry."

Loyal looked bereft, even though he seemed to have already expected it, and he sat down sullenly. "What... what happened?"

A feeling of dread grew in her stomach, an oily, aching ball of fear and guilt and shame. She had to tell him the truth, it was the only right thing to do. She had to tell him she'd accidentally shot their security chief. She had to be honest and brave and take responsibility for what she'd done, no matter how much it terrified her.

"The... the ants got her. I'm sorry."

"Oh sweet Lord, Raquel. Did she... did she suffer?"

"I... No, not really, I guess."

His face hardened, becoming determined. "I'm goin' out there tomorrow. To give her a good burial."

Oh shit no, if he found her he'd see the bullet holes. He'd know she lied. God dammit En, confess what you've done, don't try to get out of it. Be strong and say it. Tell him what happened. Choose honesty now instead of damning yourself to living the lie.

"WE SHOULD – " Stel began, but En pulled the earwig out of her ear, effectively quieting the suit. "You can't, the ants, they... they dragged her underground. It was like... she was there one moment, and gone the next. It went too fast, there was... nothing I could do."

She was a despicable coward. She'd killed someone and now she was lying to cover it up. She was disgusted with herself.

"I see." Loyal's face became defeated again. "She was a brave woman. I... guess I'll have to tell Pearl the news now."

"I'm sorry." Sorry I killed her and sorry I'm a pathetic liar. She felt tears burning in her eyes and a comforting hand was put on her shoulder.

"I believe you kid. Don't blame yourself, there's nothin' you could have done."

She didn't deserve his trust, or his sympathy. And still she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. She let out a short, loud sob and then said, "Thanks. I do blame myself though."

"Don't. Raquel was a proud and strong woman. She knew the risks of her job. She wouldn't want people to feel guilty."

She had to shift the conversation away from this because his kind words made her loathe herself even more. "Raquel, she... she said I had to ask you about the Lady. About making her fly."

He let out a sad chuckle. "She did, did she."

A silence fell, and at length he said hoarsely, "If Raquel trusted you, then I trust her judgment. I'll tell you what there is to know about the Lady, and about what you can do. But first I need to go see Pearl. Tell her her niece is dead."

Raquel had been Pearl's niece. This just kept getting more and more awful.

"I'm going to go see my friends. I'll be back tomorrow." She made sure it sounded like a fact rather than a question. She didn't just want to tell them she was alright. She wanted to put this place and her horrible lies behind her, at least tonight.

"Sure. I don't think that'll be a problem. I'll tell Lucas to let you through."

"Thanks."

The artillery guy had made a bit of a fuss, but Loyal had made it clear that En was to be let through and let back in without being blown to bits. So she was allowed to leave, and even though Loyal didn't ask her to, she promised she'd be back the next day. She told him she just needed to see her friends for a bit, to be with people she knew. At least she didn't have to lie about that.

Before she walked through the chain link gate, Loyal put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Don't feel bad over this, okay? You've done us a great service, both you and Raquel. You have _nothing_ to blame yourself for. If there's anything you need, you go on and ask, alright?"

More kindness she didn't deserve. This man was offering her friendship and hospitality, absolving her of what she'd done, and all she could do was keep up the lie. "Thanks, but I do feel guilty." She wiped a single tear from each eye (tears of guilt, but he didn't know), and said, "I'll be back tomorrow. To hear about that Lady, and to tell Pearl I'm sorry."

Loyal shook his head. "Don't tell her you're sorry. Tell her Raquel fought bravely and that her death was for a good cause. For our continued existence."

She turned her face away. "I have to go."

She crossed the ruins of the village again, blasted to rubble and craters, the people who'd tried to cross it dead, dead, dead.

When she was halfway, she again noticed the power armoured boot, and she walked toward the young Brotherhood woman's body. She was still lying there, her eyes closed, her face at peace except for the terrible tear through her cheek and forehead. She'd been pretty. It was strange how you cared so much more for a dead person when you could still recognize them. She'd seen tons of skeletons in her travels and they never evoked any more emotion than a faint regret for all the people who'd died when the bombs had fallen. But seeing a dead person's face always made it more real. This woman, like Raquel, would never smile again.

The Boomers had to see her. See that with their mortars, they weren't just blasting far-away silhouettes without a face, but real people. It was probably very easy to lob a mortar at a person if you only considered that person a faceless intruder instead of a young black woman who just wanted to investigate, return to her base and stick a feather up her hat for a job well done. Instead of a hungry and poor man whose despair made him stupid enough to try and run through the artillery barrage in search of something he knew wouldn't be there.

Yeah, so now she'd taken to presuming she was the ones to give those people lessons. A pathetic coward who couldn't even take responsibility for what she'd done. That was rich.

But she'd teach them this lesson regardless. They'd see this young woman's face. See what it was they did, up close.

"I'll be back," she said, her voice a mere peep.

She walked on, back to her friends.

The flickering of a campfire told her where they were, and true enough, they were all there, sitting around the fire. Meyers was going through his stack of books, explaining several of them to Sunny, looking like he was trying to find the book she'd like most. Ringo and Melissa were playing a hand of caravan, and Leza lay on her back, napping in her sleeping bag. Hm, it was nice to see Ringo and Melissa socializing. If only Sunny could get over her Melissa hang-ups, things would really work out.

The Sunny in question noticed her first, pointing her out to Meyers and getting up to walk towards her. The others remained where they were, probably because they didn't begrudge Sunny the feeling of being the first to speak to her.

"Hey sweetie. Good to see you're alright." Sunny briefly hugged her. "How was it?'

"Oh, good, good," she lied. "I managed to gain their trust a little."

"Oh so, like, can we go and meet them too?" Leza asked, holding up her sunglasses, one eyes screwed shut. She'd apparently been just dozing.

"No, better not. They already have enough trouble getting to grips with one outsider traipsing around."

"Did you get their cooperation?" Ringo asked, playing a card without looking like he knew what he was doing.

"Workin' on it, yeah. They've got something they really need done, they'll tell me tomorrow what exactly."

"Nothing dangerous, right?" Sunny asked, concerned.

En shrugged. "I'unno. We'll see."

"Stayin' with us tonight?" Melissa asked.

"Yerp." It'd be good to stay with her friends again. The visit to the Boomers had made her a bit too intimately acquainted with a part of her she didn't much care for.

"Think the stew's about ready," Meyers said, rising from the crate he was sitting on and bending over the tin pot suspended over the fireplace. "Was a real cooperative effort," he explained to En. "Sunny shot a few rabbits and Melissa went to forage barrel cactus fruits and a jalapeño pepper or two. I threw 'em all together to make for a fine dish. Hopefully."

"What's Ringo and Leza do?" En asked, though it didn't really matter.

"Ringo made the fire and Leza... well, just sat there lookin' pretty."

"Which, might I add," Watkins chimed in, "I'm _very _good at."

"I uh... really look forward to staying with you guys tonight," En confessed. "I'll go see what needs to be done for those Boomers tomorrow, and come right back. And then we'll go see House."

"Sounds good," Meyers said, focused on his stew. "Mm, needs some more seasoning. Ringo?"

Ringo wordlessly dug in his backpack and tossed him a plastic bag of herbs. The guy really came equipped. But when he was satisfied Meyers had caught the bag without dropping it, disappointment was his when Melissa played her last card, making his strategy fall apart like, well, a house of cards. "Stuffy-man, that was predictable. You're really crap at this."

"Someday I'll win the money of each and every one of you," Ringo merely said, collecting the cards and sliding his ten caps over to Melissa.

"Stew's ready. Dig in!" Meyers announced, dipping a ladle into the pot and offering it first to – of course – Leza, who scooched closer, holding her tin out.

Everyone was served, with En being last because she still had to dig her tin out of her backpack, and they sat around the campfire, having their meal together. It was good to be with her friends, as bickering a bunch as they were.

She told them about the Boomers, about Pearl and Loyal and Jack, and about the solar array and the ants. She didn't mention Raquel, because what was the point? Leza asked her about the stealth suit and she explained it as best as she could, everyone listening intently. She'd made an impression by vanishing from sight that morning. Nice. When Leza mentioned in feigned off-handedness that the Brotherhood would love to take a look at it, she shifted the topic of discussion away though. Because if she let her go down that road, she'd soon be asking if she could have it.

But yeah. She'd forgotten it wasn't even hers to give. If Leza wanted it, she'd have to get permission from Garland, not her. She was only borrowing it.

The night slowly rolled on, and as it did, conversation began to flag. Leza had already nodded off, her legs in her sleeping bag and her head on Melissa's shoulder, who didn't seem to care one way or the other, and Meyers had gotten into his sleeping bag too, now softly snoring.

"We'll take first watch," Ringo said, getting up from the crate they'd used to play caravan and which had been repurposed as a seat for Sunny and Ringo.

"We take second, jillaroo?"

"Sure, yeah."

Melissa frowned at Leza's head on her shoulder. "If I can shake off this sleepin' beauty here, that is."

"Aw..." Leza muttered quietly. "You called me a beauty."

"And _you_ were supposed to be asleep," Melissa admonished. "If you can babble, you can get into your sleepin' bag. Go on, git."

Leza sat up sullenly, pulled her sleeping bag over her and lay back.

"Go on, sweetie," Sunny said to En. "Get some sleep. We'll wake you when it's your turn."

"Once again," Ringo remarked sourly, "the good sheriff and the blonde deftly escape the night's duties."

"Oh I bet the sheriff wouldn't mind fulfilling the night's duties with the blonde," En let slip. It was a bit malicious, but who cared.

"Well, he's not made of stone, I s'pose," Melissa said with a shrug. "C'mon, jillaroo, shut yer yap an' get some sleep."

En was already halfway in her sleeping bag. "Yes mom."

"Don't make me throw the tea pot at your face," Melissa grunted, lying down next to the fire, her arms under her head. She didn't seem to need a sleeping bag. En thought that made her ten kinds of crazy.

"Stel, any chance you can uh, you know..."

"YES?"

"... well, activate your heating function just enough so that your batteries can last all night?"

"I CAN, BUT HEATING EFFECTS WILL BE VERY MINIMAL."

"That's cool. Go ahead."

"ACTIVATING HEATING ELEMENTS. HEATING LEVEL SET TO MINIMAL."

She felt a slight but comfortable bit of heat emanating from the back plate. "Oohooooh, nice, thanks!"

"Good night," Sunny said, sitting on a rock next to Ringo.

"Night, Sunny."

Tired as she was, and with Stel's slight bit of heating making her feel extra snug, En was out like a light.

* * *

><p>"Well, he's dead."<p>

"Thanks, Veronica. I'm glad you're here to tell me these things."

"Aw, no need to get all snippy. I just like pointing out the obvious, it makes me feel smart."

"There's a note on him."

"You don't sit about, do you Cass?"

"Well... he's dead. He won't mind me riflin' through his pockets."

"If I die, will you stick your hands in my pockets too?"

"You wish."

"Yeah, because I'm a lesbian! I covet and violently rape every woman I meet! Especially women who've wandered on both sides of the tracks already and now pretend gay stuff disgusts them."

"It's not that you're a woman. It's that you're _you_."

"Haha, oh Cass, you don't fool me. I know you're just putting on an act. Anyway, you're stuck with me for the time being. Now what's in the note?"

"Uh... hm. He's meeting someone in the steam room. Or, well, he _was_ meeting someone."

"We better go in his place then."

"In his place?"

"Yes."

"To the steam room?"

"_Yes_."

"With you?"

"Well, obviously."

"Go in his place. To the steam room. With you. Naked."

"Oh, Cass, for fuck's sake. Wear a freakin' towel if you're that horrified at the thought."

"Oh I will. And so will you."

"Aw, towels make me look fat."

"You'd probably look fat without a towel too."

"Oh-_oh_, nice comeback. I know you're only saying that 'cause you love me, though."

"It's my way of expressing I really want to hate you, but I can't."

"See?"

"You _are_ wearing a towel though."

"_Fine, fine_. Now let's get moving. I wonder how En and her friends are doing."

"You mean that androgynous boygirl?"

"M-hm. I heard about those Boomers. Supposed to be really dangerous."

"_Good_."

"Aw, come on, she's a bit of a punk sometimes, but she's alright."

"I don't like her one bit."

"Yeah, I gathered. But come on, how were you at her age?"

"An _adult_. I _had_ to be."

"Yeah, okay, but she's had the fortune of growing up in a loving and safe environment. So much the better for her, right? It's not something you should hate her for."

"I just don't like her."

"It's a free wasteland. Now come on. You and I have a date in the steam room."

"Yeah, yeah. But if I feel your hand anywhere on my body, you're losing it, got it?"

"Pft. You're no fun."

* * *

><p>My <em>name<em>, you uncivilized _buffoon_, is _Philippe_. Gourmet chef of the Ultra-Luxe. Now what are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Uh... I'm uh..."

"Oh, _joy_, another stammering simpleton. I will ask again. _What_ are you doing in my atelier?"

"We uh, the owners got an anonymous threat. Concerning your uh... esteemed person."

"Pshwah! Nonsense. Rubbish. Utter flimflam. Who would possibly threaten a great chef such as myself? An asset to the world? Hmmm?"

"Well... someone who's jealous, maybe? You know, like uh... high trees, they catch a lot of wind?"

"Hmmmm. Yes. Yes I suppose genius like mine is worshipped by most, but envied by some."

"Right. So I'm supposed to make sure nothing happens to you."

"Oh. A _guard_. How quaint."

"Uh... yeah."

"Then why were you skulking around like a vagabond?"

"Oh, I was... just uh... sweeping the area for IEDs."

"For what?"

"Bombs."

"Oh I see. Well, just... just stand in a corner and stay out of the way. You'll have the great honour of watching me and my sous-chefs at work as we employ our revolutionary new beef-cooking technique."

"Yeah. Lucky me."

"Yes, you are indeed very lucky. My sous-chefs will be here shortly to – ahh, there they are. Jean-Claude, Benoit, ready the lance-flammes, please?"

"... Yes, chef."

"Good. Make sure everything is prepared and I shall return shortly.

"Yes chef."

"Wait, are you guys really called Jean-Claude and Benoit?"

"Shit, no. Just John and Ben. He's just called Phil too, but he likes to pretend we're all French."

"I... see. I'm Garl – Gary. Need to guard you guys because there was an anonymous threat."

"Oh. Probably someone who wants "Philippe" dead. If my memory wasn't so good, I'd probably think it was me. So don't do too good a job."

"Uh... okay. By the way, why are you holding flame throwers?"

"Well, the new – "

"En avant, messieurs, let's get this show on the road. We have a full dining hall waiting for us and we will offer them nothing but the meilleur. We will go, as always, _beyond the beef_."

"Uh, mister Philippe?"

"_Chef_ Philippe, you philistine!"

"Errr, yes. I haven't checked the freezer for IEDs yet. Would you mind if I did a quick check?"

"Of the freezer? No. No, that will not be necessary."

"Yes, but I can – "

"That will not! Be! Necessary!"

"I see. That's interesting."

* * *

><p>"Wake-up time sweetie."<p>

Sunny's voice tore En out of the dream she was in, about penguins that exploded when you threw them.

"Your turn."

"Hrrrrrr."

"Yeah. I know."

Melissa had made less of a fuss, already out of her sleeping bag and pouring a cup of the coffee Ringo had heated up before their shift ended. Thoughtful of him. "C'mon jill. You're keepin' 'em from their sleep."

"Yeah, yeah."

Sunny wasted no time getting into the sleeping bag she'd zipped onto Ringo's. "Have a good watch, you two."

Hm, not just En, but 'you two'. That was positive.

"So," Melissa asked, taking Ringo's place on the boulder. "Gonna see the Boomers again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"I get the feelin' you're not tellin' us the whole story though."

Wait, what? "Huh? Not the whole story? What are you talking about?"

Melissa looked at her intently, the fire flickering yellow on her face. "It felt like there was somethin' you were holdin' back when you talked about the whole thing with the ants in the gennie room."

Crap, it had been showing. But maybe... En didn't believe in signs, but maybe this was one. A chance given to fess up and tell the truth. Melissa would understand, or at least try to. Maybe this was an opportunity to make right what she'd done, lying about her accidental murder. If she kept quiet about it now, she'd keep quiet about it forever, so this was the last chance.

"Nope. Not holding anything back."

Dammit. She was a coward. But maybe it was for the best that way. There was really nothing that would change by her being honest. It wouldn't bring Raquel back or even honour her memory. It wouldn't make the Boomers grateful for her honesty, but quite the opposite. No one, literally _no one_ would benefit from her confession.

Sure, it was the right thing to do, but what good was doing the right thing if it harmed everyone? No, best bury it deep down and stay quiet.

"Alright," Melissa said, looking away and sounding convinced. "Just sayin', you can tell me stuff if you wanna."

"Heh, thanks, but there's nothing to tell." Apart from the fact that I'm a lying weasel.

"Cool."

There was a short silence, and then Melissa spoke up. "Y'know, jill, I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no," En joked.

"I know, I know," Melissa said with a grin. "But with that whole spunky-dead-chick picture business, I've skipped to the last chapter in that storybook of yours an' read what happened to her. Cooked to death in a burnin' reactor."

"Yup. Extra crispy."

"It got me thinkin' about death and stuff, and – "

"Whoa, Melissa, you're not gonna get all emo on me are you?"

That earned her a playful slap against the shoulder. "Quiet, ankle-biter. No, I'm kinda wonderin'... when you die, is there like, a single thought or an image you keep in your head?"

'I'unno." She hadn't really thought about dying, to be honest. Wasn't something that was on her to-do list and wouldn't be for a very long time.

"I just wonder."

"Well, I think there is," En guessed. "I mean that Raquel chick must have had something on her mind when she died, pointing at the sky and all."

Melissa frowned. "Pointin' at the sky? I thought she got dragged underground by giant ants?"

Awh, _crap_. Shit, she'd run her mouth. "Uh... only half. I pulled her out. She was wounded but still alive."

"That sounds like a pretty unlikely story."

"Well it's how it went, okay?" En snapped. It was too late to come clean.

"Whoa, easy there. I'm just sayin'. Anyway, I wonder if people really have this one image in their heads when they die. But I guess I'll never know. Don't know anyone who died and lived to tell – " She abruptly fell silent. And En knew why.

"All I saw was a gun barrel and all I could think of was not to cry and not to wet my pants. Least I didn't cry. That answer your question?"

"Sorry, jill. Didn't mean to remind you of that. Or myself, for that matter."

En shrugged. She'd decided to forgive her so that meant she had to stick by that decision. "It's okay. In the past, right?"

"Mm. Anyways, I wonder."

"About?"

"Well. What image will be in my mind when I die. If I even realize it."

"Oh. Well, guess you'll see huh?"

"Tchyeah, but hopefully not for a very long time."

"Heh. Obviously."

"So. Not too homesick?"

En had to make a lopsided shrug and admit, "Yeah, kinda. I mean, it's fun travelling with you guys, but I miss home sometimes yeah. And it's not just that I miss it. I can't stay away too long or someone will put her claws into the guy I like."

"Heh, Riiiiight. Forgot about that."

"Oh I haven't. But I'm not too worried. Alison will make sure no one touches him."

"Mm. Sounds like a true friend, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Melissa rose with a groan. "Well, I'm still hungry, even though Meyers' stew tastes like it's passed through the digestive system of a Yao Guai."

"Well, in his defence, he didn't have a lot to work with."

"Still." Melissa scooped up a ladle of stew and sploshed it into her tin. "Hey 'yknow what, I'll guard the fort on my own, you get some sleep, yeah?"

En knew it would be good form to refuse and sit out the watch with Melissa, but she was _dead_ tired, and good form had to take a backseat today. "You sure?" she asked regardless.

"Yeah. Go on, catch a few winks. I'm used to standin' guard on my own. I won't fall asleep."

"Thanks, Melissa. I'd be lying if I said I didn't need it."

"Thought so. Go on, sleep."

En didn't need any more encouragement. Still warmed by Stel's heating elements, she was asleep before she even realized she was lying down.


	55. A Secret, Buried in the Sea

**FIFTY-FIVE**

**Near Nellis Air Force Base**

**July 16****th**

**08:44**

A nudge against her shoulder pulled En from her sleep.

"Get up," Melissa said, standing over her. "Before they wake up and start givin' you Hell for sleepin' on watch."

She checked her Pip-boy. It was an hour before they were supposed to wake the others. "Guh, Melis_sa_," she groaned, "for a scout, you suck at telling the time."

"And for a leader, you suck at openin' your eyes."

"Huh?" She rubbed the sand from her eyes and saw Melissa was staring at something. She followed her gaze. Two people, walking towards them. "Huh. Who's that?"

"Hmph. They've got flight suits on. Look like your Boomer cobbers."

En squinted against the pale morning light. "Ohhhh yeah."

"Now, you were sayin'? About me as a scout?"

"Alright, alright, I take it back. You're the bestest scout in the whole world, Melissa."

"Say it like you mean it," Melissa insisted with a grin.

"Don't push it, you." She squinted again and recognized them now, a younger man with dark blond hair and an older one, this one with white hair. Jack and Loyal. "Yeah, I know 'em, they're okay." En's gut clenched slightly. What if they'd found Raquel? They couldn't have. They wouldn't have gone out there in the middle of the night, looking for a patch of disturbed earth. No way.

It did little to ease the tension in her belly.

With a small heart, though no one saw, she stood up and took a few steps towards Jack and Loyal. "Uh... hey. Whatcha doin' here?"

Loyal's mouth widened to a smile and the tension fell off En. "Well, missy, we figured we might as well save you the trip an' tell you what it's all about. We had a meetin' with the AFB's prominents, and Pearl agrees. You help us with the Lady, an' we'll owe you one."

"Though..." Jack added with an embarrassed shrug, "helping me out with that other matter won't hurt either."

En grinned. "Don't worry, I'm on it."

"Cool."

Loyal gave a brief confused look, then asked En, "Mind if we have a seat?"

"Oh, no, no, of course not. Uh... I'm afraid all I can offer is our most comfortable boulder, though."

"Mm."

"Or you can sit on my sleeping bag. It's okay, I didn't wee in it in my sleep." When Loyal and Jack made to sit down, she added, "At least, I think so."

They briefly froze in mid-movement, but then realized she was joking. "This is Melissa. Melissa, these are Loyal and Jack, y'know, from the Boomers.

"Yeh. Hi."

"Uh... hello, miss," Loyal said, somewhat awkwardly. "That's an... interesting haircut."

"It's horrible, but she won't let me touch it," Ringo's voice came from the other sleeping bag. "Thanks for speaking loud enough to wake my dead grandmother."

"Hey, at least you'll be able to see her again," En said.

Watkins only let out a groan and turned over, and Sunny was, predictably, far away in dreamland. Meyers clambered out of his sleeping bag, without a word, and began making coffee, his face wrinkled like it had been scrunched up all night and finally let go.

"Not exactly rise-and-shiners," Jack remarked with a grin.

"No, they're a pretty sorry-looking bunch in the morning," En agreed. "Most of them come around after an hour or two. Well, 'cept Ringo. He's grumpy all day."

"For a reason, miss En," Ringo said wearily. Then he saw Meyers was already making the coffee, in his jim-jams, and permitted himself another few minutes of lazing.

"Ennie," a nasal voice groaned from another sleeping bag. "I think your watch is like, still set on pre-War time? It's not even day yet, sheesh."

"We've got guests, Leza," En only said. "Two handsome gentlemen."

"Aw geez," Watkins let out, immediately disappearing into her sleeping bag entirely.

"God forbid that a man should see her morning face," Melissa remarked to no one in particular.

"So uh," En said. "While Mey- ... Cliff makes the coffee, care to tell us about that Lady thing?"

"Ah, right!" Loyal's eyes immediately lit up, making his face ten years younger. "The Lady." He paused for effect.

"... Yes?"

"You know we're workin' on that aircraft back in Nellis AFB, right?"

"You don't say."

"Right, well. We were a bit... cautious with you at first."

"Let me guess," En said. "You're not just trying to turn it into some nice scenery. You're making it ready to fly, aren't you?"

"I... yes," Loyal stammered, surprised. "How did you...?"

"Tch. The radio was recently repaired, the ejection seat had its straps replaced and you were _coincidentally_ repairing the refuelling truck next to it."

Loyal and Jack exhanged a glance out of embarrassment. "Ah... well, errr... Then you know, I suppose. Haha."

En shrugged. "Wasn't exactly inconspicuous."

"Right," Jack went on, picking up Loyal's explanation. "Now, we Boomers, we know planes inside and out. There's literally _nothing_ we don't know about planes."

"Except how to make them fly," En pointed out.

"No, no," he countered. "We know how to make them fly too."

"Really?" En asked with a grin, unable to contain herself. "So how many have you actually taken off and flown with?"

"Ahh, well..." he began, looking away. "We've um... well, we already made several aircraft um, sky-worthy?"

"Yeah," Melissa insisted. "But how many have you _flown_?"

"I uh... it doesn't matter whether they've flown or not, they – "

"So none?" En insisted. Loving to make people feel awkward was a character flaw.

Jack gave up. "Okay, none. Fine. But _this_ one, we've got everything in place, everything ready. I'm telling you, this bird's gonna fly."

"So what's stoppin' you?" Melissa asked.

"Ah," Loyal took over again. "All we need is a few more things." Meyers passed him and Jack a dented cup of coffee. "Oh my, thank you. Errr, yes. A few more things."

En made a circular motion with her hand. "Yeees?"

Jack produced a paper from his jacket pocket. "A working fuel cell controller, a working altimeter, two engine coupling bypasses, and a working air recycler. And eh... three Wright T35 turboprops."

Meyers whistled between his teeth. "Quite a shoppin' list."

"Turboprops, like, the engines?" En asked.

"Yeah. We've got a few spare parts, a compressor or two and a turbine in case they need replacin', but workin' engines would be best."

En couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was ridiculous. Where the crap would she find three jet engines? The rest would already be impossible to come by, but _three whole jet engines_? Of that _exact model_? "Uh... you _do_ know I can't just snap my fingers and have someone send over three jet engines, do you?"

Jack grinned, already ready for the question, it would seem. "No, no. Here's the part that involves you. We know where to find those parts. All we need is a way to get to them."

"You know where to find this whole scrapheap? Including three jet engines?" Melissa asked incredulously. "Mate, I've scouted pretty much this whole desert, and I've _never_ seen – "

"That's because they're not _in_ the desert," Jack said. "A B-52 bomber went down here, right before the war. That's where we intend to take those parts from."

Melissa snorted. "I've never seen a wreck of a bomber anywhere in the desert. Someone's been pullin' your leg, bucko."

"Only planes around here are at McCarran," Ringo added. "And they're mostly small passenger liners and stripped for scrap or parts a long time ago."

Loyal made a calming gesture with his hands. "We _know_. Well, we didn't know about that McCarran place, but the bomber didn't go down in the desert. At least, not in the sand."

"So where _did_ it go down?" Melissa asked, irritated at the two men's perceived unwillingness to face facts.

Loyal held up a finger, grinning mischievously. "That bomber went down _smack_ in the middle of Lake Mead."

"Well," Jack said, looking at Loyal. "Not the _middle_..."

Loyal sighed wearily. "I was just sayin' that to make it sound more dramatic."

"If it went down in the lake," Ringo said, "Chances are it'll be well preserved. Apart from all the rubber parts. And everything else that decays in water."

"Yup, yup," Loyal agreed. "But those ain't a problem. We've got enough rubber parts and dinkums to patch 'em all up."

"So what, you want me to dive into the lake, and unscrew all those parts underwater, what?" En asked. "I can't breathe water, you're aware of that, right?"

Loyal chuckled wheezily. "Yes, yes. Jack?"

The younger Boomer produced the sports bag he'd been carrying.

"No solar array parts in it this time, but inflatable CO2 bags. Now you attach those under the plane's wings – we drew you a diagram to show you where you can do it without doin' damage – then you swim back to shore and," he held up a small joystick with a red button on top, "you press the detonator to inflate the bags, takin' her up to the surface. Nice an' easy."

"If it's nice an' easy," Melissa immediately said, "Why don't you do it?"

"None of us know how to dive, miss."

"And you think I do?"

Loyal shrugged. "You're from the outside. You're resourceful. I'm sure you'll find a way."

"So... the only thing that stopped you is not knowing how to dive?" Melissa asked. "You sure you really want this?"

"That's not all," Jack said. "And this is why we need you." He held up a small holotape. "This thing only fits Pip-boys, and it's the only thing we have that tells us the exact location."

"So if you insert it into my Pip-boy, and I tell you where it is, isn't that enough?"

Loyal shook his head. "No, miss. It's not that we don't trust you, but just pointing us in the right direction isn't enough. You need to actually bring her to the surface. We'll take it from there."

Jack said, "You do this for us, and..."

Loyal finished, "... you've got our support against those Legion fellers. Promised."

"Any idea how deep underwater it is?" Ringo asked, making a sour face at Meyers' (doubtless subpar) coffee.

"None whatsoever."

"Lake Mead can get pretty deep in places," Melissa said. "Not so much that you need to worry about water pressure, but deep enough to make you think twice about divin' in there without a divin' suit."

"Be a bit unfortunate if you had to have come all this way just to drown ignominiously," Meyers pointed out. "Wouldn't make for a good story."

"Wouldn't make for a good way to die either," En said. "Still. Might not be that deep. And if it is, I'll think of something."

Ringo shrugged. "Not like there's evil slaughterfish in the water. Should be safe as long as we don't take any excessive risks."

En held out her hand at Loyal. "Alright, old man. Impregnate my Pip-boy."

His face awkward at En's verbiage, Loyal produced the holotape and clicked it into the slot on En's Pip-boy. A few beeps and buzzes later, her map was updated. Melissa promptly grabbed her wrist and pulled the Pip-boy towards her, making En yelp in surprise, even though she could have known Melissa would do that – she always did when she wanted to check the map.

"Hmmm. Doesn't look like it's _that_ far from the bank," Melissa said, frowning at the Pip-boy screen. "Might be possible to dive for it. _If _it's even there." Oh, proud Melissa, trying to discredit people if they knew something she didn't.

"We'll see what's what when we get there," Meyers said, shrugging.

"M-hm," En agreed. "Let's head back to the Lucky 38 first though, give that asshat House an update and see if they've got a scrapyard in Vegas."

"What," Melissa asked mockingly. "You gonna build a submarine?"

"Tch, no. But I might be able to cobble something together to let me stay underwater longer."

"Gills?"

"I don't want gills unless I also get a fish tail and red hair."

"Well," Loyal said, rising with a grimace as his knees cracked. "I'll leave you people to it. There's a long-wave transmitter in the bag as well. When the Lady's afloat, let us know and we'll handle the rest."

"Yerp."

"Mind if I wake these two?" Melissa asked with a grin, pointing at Leza and Sunny.

"Yes, Melissa," Ringo said. "Yes I do."

"Spoilsport. Blondie at least?"

He shrugged at that. "Knock yourself out."

"I heard that, Melissa," Watkins groaned. "You touch me and I'll bite your fingers off."

"Better be careful then," Melissa grunted. "She's used to havin' long fleshy objects in her mouth."


	56. Someone's Table

**FIFTY-SIX**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 16****th**

**13:22**

"Penthouse floor."

Oh how she'd _missed_ Victor and his tinny cowboy drawl.

"Afternoon, miss Tessara," Jane the other robot said. Yeah, yeah. "Mr. House is waiting for you."

Yeah, En was sure he was.

"Miss Tessara. I see you return unscathed." The screen was unchanged, still that fifties businessman face.

"Yep, I'm good." Though she doubted the home cinema gave a rat's ass about her physical condition. Healthy associates were useful associates.

"What news of the... rather inanely named Boomers?"

"Yeah," En said, looking up and the screen, trying not to feel dwarfed. "I actually managed to go see them."

"That's more than the two people I sent before were capable of."

"Uh... yeah. Well, they're prepared to help, on one condition."

The speakers let out a sighing noise. "Let me guess, money?"

"Bzzzt, wrong. They want me to recover an old plane wreck. Supposedly sank into Lake Mead. An old bomber."

"I see." The voice sounded pensive.

"So I thought I'd check with you before I went ahead with it."

"Yes, well thought. It seems there's a decently functioning brain beneath all the immature underpants-humour."

"Who'd have thunk it, huh." Asshole.

House was silent, thinking. He definitely wasn't an A.I.. They didn't need time to think. Not like that, anyway. Eventually he said, "Indulge them. Do what they need you to do, but make it very clear that if they intend to use their plane against New Vegas, or any other inappropriate target, there will be more Securitrons rolling at them than they can ever destroy with their artillery."

"Uh, sure. So If I do this, the five thousand – "

"They are yours, and will be well deserved. Make sure they send a representative to the Lucky 38 to discuss future dealings."

"Cool. I think I know just the guy, if you don't mind him making a little detour first."

"See to it. Jane will have a thousand cap down payment ready for you when you leave. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll need to make sure my securitrons are equipped to defend against aerial attack."

"Yeah, figured you'd take precautions."

"I am methodical without being predictable. Good afternoon, miss Tessara."

She found herself back in the scorching afternoon sun, where her friends were waiting. They'd already decided she'd treat them all to a solid dinner. The extra thousand she'd gotten from House would cover more than twenty dinners. Cheyenne greeted her with a cheerful bark.

"So?" Meyers asked. "Got permission to earn five thousand?"

"Yeppers." She scratched Cheyenne behind the ear. "We'll head out to Lake Mead tomorrow. I'll need to work on something to make the dive easier first."

"I help?" Watkins asked. En doubted Watkins was any help in anything technical that involved more than just running a quick script or two, but if she wanted to tag along, fine.

"Uh yeah, sure, I guess. If you w – "

"Oh, _no_, no, no," Melissa interrupted. "Blondie belongs to me this afternoon."

The apprehension was legible on Watkins' face. "Uh... wha? Melissa, you're not gonna drag me into a dark alley and – "

"Don't flatter yourself. Come on, you an' I got somethin' to do."

"Uh, Melissa?" En asked. "Mind giving us a word of explanation?"

Melissa grinned broadly. "Yes, jillaroo, I _do_ mind. Your fault for always goin' 'you'll see' at us too."

"Agh, I knew that would come back to bite me in the butt."

"C'mon, blondie. Let's go do some naughty stuff."

Watkins' face grew even more uncomfortable. "Uh... guys?"

"Go on," En said. "I'm sure Melissa just needs some clothing advice."

"As if. Come on, buxom."

Watkins looked anything but at ease when Melissa grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her into the street.

"That's... unexpected," Ringo said. He and Sunny had been silent so far.

"Any idea what she's got planned?" Sunny asked En.

"_No_ idea."

"Well," Sunny said, "We're gonna take a walk together. Meet back in our rooms at...?"

"Say, six?" En said. "Should be done tinkering then."

"Six, gotcha."

"Need some company, little lady?" Meyers asked as they watched Sunny and Ringo walk off.

"Sure, but I'll be concentrating so I might not be all that interesting company."

"Doesn't matter." He fished a book from his bag and held it up. "I've got Charles Marlow to keep me company."

"Righto. Veronica told me about some kind of workshop near their old hotel. See if I can rent a workbench there."

"Alrighty."

They set off towards the west side of town. Right now there weren't that many people out yet, and most of them were sober, so they thankfully wouldn't have to shoulder through a throng of drunkards, just the occasional hardcore party animal, and those were easily avoided by keeping a wide berth of anyone staggering with a bottle in his hand.

"Here is it," En announced. "Michelangelo's workshop."

"Sounds like another hack who wants to make himself appear cultured by adoptin' a classical name."

"... Oh yeah," En remembered. "He was like this legendary painter of old, wasn't he?"

With a grin, Meyers said, "It's good to see your parents educated you well."

"Yeah, my parents and my dyke teacher. Nah, just kidding, she's cool. But a dyke."

"Butch or lipstick?"

"Lipstick, thankfully. The boys never knew what to think of her. On the one hand, having a hot teacher is every boy's dream, but what's the point if you can't fantasize about her pulling you behind the blackboard for some highly illegal seduction?"

"I... haven't thought of that, to be honest, little lady."

"Tchyeah right. Because you're totally _not_ in the same situation."

He frowned. "That's different. I don't fantasize about her."

En raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well... not, I mean, it's not what my feelings are about. You can't possibly compare randy teenager fantasies to genuine love."

En couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Genuine love? For _her_?"

"Yes. I believe we've gone over this. I'd change it if I could, but I can't."

"Seems weird though, that like, a clever bookworm like you would fall for a..." Hm, best not be too blunt about it, "well, you know... a ditz."

"She's not a ditz," he protested a little too quickly.

"She is. She totally is. I like her, but come on, dude."

"I'm not a dude," Meyers said absently. "And it's just... impossible for me to see her negative sides. You're young, but that's what love does to you, little lady."

"_Hey_. I know what love is and what it does, thankyouverymuch. You condescending ageist," she added semi-seriously.

"That I'm condescending doesn't – "

"... doesn't make it any less correct," En finished in his place. "Yeah, yeah."

He wasn't just talking. From his face, En could see the feelings were weighing on him. God damn, an old grizzled sheriff hardass completely smitten by a dumb blonde who probably couldn't tie her own shoelaces without reading the manual first – and even then. Sure, she was a knockout – truth be told – and En wouldn't have been surprised to hear Meyers had a cannon in his pants every time he saw her, but the guy really was _in love_. What the flipping fuck. It would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad for the guy.

Because, come on. He didn't stand a chance.

And he knew it.

"Hey um, let's just go inside instead of nattering like two old women, okay?" En said after a moment of silence.

"Of course. I shouldn't be bothering a nice young lady with my old guy troubles."

En decided to keep it diplomatic. "It's not about bothering, it's just..." she shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it, you know?"

"Indeed."

"Come on, maybe your book can take your mind off things."

Meyers managed a wry smile. "Books are known to do that, yes."

Michelangelo's workshop was a big hangar with workbenches all over, and more scrap and junk than En could shake a Pip-boy at. The proprietor, a rather grungy young man in an old vault suit, immediately noticed them and strode towards them, a broad smile on his face. "Welcome, welcome to Michelangelo's workshop! I can tell you're appreciators of fine art!"

"Fine art?" En asked.

His confidence seemed to falter somewhat. "Yes... that _is_ why you're here, right?"

"Uh..."

"Right?"

"No sir," Meyers took over. "We were hoping we could rent one of your workbenches for a day, and use some of your material to fashion a small device."

Disappointment sloughed over his face. "Oh. Sure, I guess. Uh... a hundred for a day and five kilograms worth of scrap. No working electronics included. That sound good?"

Money wasn't an object. "Sure." She counted off a hundred and let the caps fall into a bag he held out.

"All yours." With that, he stomped off, looking seriously insulted. Geez, the guy looked to be clearly hurting for appreciation. En took a quick look around and figured it was no wonder the guy was under-appreciated. His 'art' seemed to involve welding shapeless hunks of iron onto other chunks of iron. The only sculpture she did recognize as faintly human, looked like it was made up of huge brawling fists, an oversized brain, the legs of a cheetah, the body of a muscled demigod, and a horse wiener. Now _that_ was dangerous. No wonder so few people admired the strange gentleman's art. Meyers seemed to be thinking the same thing, grimacing at the horrible sculptured. Quietly, he sighed to En, "Modern art..."

"Yeah."

They found a work bench that still had a working light, and En plunked down her backpack on it, unhooking her tool belt and making that bonk on the wooden workbench as well. Then she surveyed the junk piled against the walls. Most of it were useless hunks of metal, but as always, several little parts and pieces waved at her, speaking in little high pitched voices. "Ooh, me, me, combine me with him and her and her and we'll be totally awesome."

And as always, they were right. Meyers sat down at the side of the workbench, crossing his legs and opening his book. "I'll leave you to it, little lady."

"Yerp," En answered, and then muttered to herself, "Once again I'll show the world that _I_ had to win the science fair and not that little bitch Marcie Holloway. Third place, bah."

"I believe you, little lady," Meyers said absently, making only a token effort to agree with her.

En quickly picked out a rubber vacuum cleaner hose, an old gas mask, a busted airbag system and a pair of biker goggles. Yep. That was all she needed. This would be easy.

She got to it, borrowing some of that Michelangelo dude's glue and sticking things together. She cut a hole in the gas mask's front, where the filter was, and hooked the vacuum hose onto it. It didn't have any holes, goody. The mask was damaged, so she cut off the top half and instead glued the biker goggles onto it, making sure the seal was perfect. Then it was simply a matter of breaking apart the old airbag and sticking the hose onto the fabric to create an air sack. She snatched up an old leather backpack and cut away the front so she had a harness to tack the bag onto, so it could be carried on the back. Michelangelo came by briefly to see what she was doing, and offered as comment, "It's... practical, I suppose. Not much elegance to it though."

"If it works, it works," En had replied, taking care to sound annoyed enough, and the man had taken the hint and buggered off.

A few tweaks later, and the rebreather was done. "Ta-_daaah_!"

Meyers looked up from his book. "It doesn't... look that impressive."

"Looks don't matter, shyuh!"

"How very true, little lady."

"Yeah figures you'd agree."

"Watch it, smart mouth," he said with a grin, making to hit her with his book.

En checked her Pip-boy. Excellent timing. "C'mon, let's head on back to the 38."

"Before you go," the owner of the workshop said, "would you mind doing me a small favour?"

En sighed. "Depends what it is." Everyone needed favours it seemed.

He produced a camera. "Could you just... umm, make some photos for me?"

"Photos of what?"

He shrugged. "Anything inspirational you see. I'm mainly looking for special signs or advertising boards. Stuff like that." With that, he pushed the camera in her hands. "You can make a few personal photos too if you want to. Got plenty of film."

It was an old Polaroid camera, one of those that immediately developed its pictures so you didn't have to bring the film to a dark room. It was kinda nice, and En figured this little adventure wouldn't last forever, so they better make a photo or two to have some good memories. Who knew where they'd be a year from now, or five, or ten. Sunny and Ringo might be living in New Arroyo with her, but the others, probably not. "Alright, I guess. If you're cool with us snapping some pics for ourselves?"

"Yes, I just said that was alright, didn't I?"

Meyers ticked the rim of his hat. "You did, at that. We'll be back with some good pictures for you."

"Much appreciated."

"Okay, so the first thing we do", En said when they were out in the sun again, "is to make a few awesome group shots, okay?"

"If you wish, little lady." His voice sounded lukewarm but his grin betrayed his interest.

"You bet I wish. Come on, old geezer. I'll even let you stand next to Watkins."


	57. Upheaval

**FIFTY-SEVEN**

**New Vegas Strip**

**July 16****th**

**18:13**

Everyone assembled on the Lucky 38 casino floor. Melissa and Leza were a few minutes late, and when they arrived, Watkins looked like she'd been smacked around by a mental sledge hammer, pale, nervous and clearly preoccupied. Melissa just wore a confident smirk. What the Hell had those two been up to?

Ringo seemed to wonder same thing. "Miss Watkins, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm... I'm good," she stammered. "Just a little uh..."

"Shh!" Melissa interrupted her. "It's a surprise, yeah?"

"Right, right." And with that Watkins resumed her apparent fretting.

"So sweetie, we were going to have dinner, and then to the Tops tonight, right?" Sunny asked. "Okay if we don't make it a drunken bash?"

"Oh yeah, sure," En said. "Don't wanna go diving with a hangover tomorrow."

"Quite," Meyers agreed.

"Hey, but, but, but," En announced, suddenly giddy when she remembered the camera. "First we gotta go out into the sun and make some..." she produced the camera, "...snapshawts!"

The reactions to the camera were mixed. Melissa rolled her eyes – predictably - while Leza suddenly went just as giddy as En – also predictably – and Ringo asked, "Wow, where'd you get _that_?"

"Some guy wants us to take a few inspirational photos and he's okay with us making a few group shots too. So come on, come on, out, out!"

Shooed out by En's pestering, the entire group found itself on the curb, in front of the lucky 38. En honoured her deal with the artist dude and quickly snapped a shot of the 38's illuminated sign. "Okay, okay, now everyone bunch together!" But when she lined up the camera to snap the photo, she realized. Dang, how was she gonna take the picture if she had to be in it?

Meyers had already foreseen it however, and called out to a man in a suit. He looked suspicious, with his thick beard and hat pulled low over his sunglassed eyes, but when he heard they wanted a few pictures taken before heading to the casino, he seemed pretty cool with taking one or two.

"Alright, alright guys," En ordered. "Pose! And Melissa, no making faces."

"Pft."

Meyers had taken care to stand next to Leza, but when he made to put his arm around her waist, she subtly but noticeably pulled back. Poor Meyers. Melissa stood on the end, next to Meyers, her arms crossed, trying to look too-badass-for-photos, while Ringo and Sunny had taken up position on En's other side, Sunny smiling and Ringo looking sour as always. Cheyenne sat at her mistress' feet, wondering what the Hell was going on.

"Smile, smile, smile!" En cheered, and the shady dude made the polaroid flash.

"Oh, like, can you do another?" Watkins immediately asked. "I think I've got my eyes closed on this one?"

"Sure thing," the man in the suit said with a grin, and snapped another one, and then another. "More?"

"As many as you can make!" En said giddily. At that, the man snapped three more group photos and then said, "Now my finger's tired," giving En the camera back. When he did so, he quietly asked, "Say, you mentioned going to the casino later tonight..."

"Uh, yeah, why?" Behind her, Sunny went to put Cheyenne back in their room for the evening.

He leaned in and quietly murmured, "Need to buy some protection?"

"What, rubbers?"

"No. Guns, knives. Guards take your weapons away in most casinos, but these are hold-outs. Can't take away what they can't find."

"Uh... no, we're good." The Tops hadn't taken their guns away, but she knew almost every other casino did. Figured there'd be shady types dealing in concealed weapons.

"Sure?"

"M-hm."

"Alrighty then," the man asked, suddenly becoming chipper again. "Have a good evening now."

"Uh... you too."

"Ennie, come _on_, let's see the pictures?"

"Oh, right." As she watched the hold-out guy walk away, she shook the polaroid pictures. She'd been told that made them develop faster. "But hey, I'm keeping one to use as a card for back home, that okay?"

"What-_ever_, just show them!" Watkins had forgotten all about whatever it was that was on her mind. And even the others, including Melissa and Ringo, stood around her to see the result.

"Melis_sa_!" En shouted as the first picture became visible. Sunny had rejoined them by then.

"_Wot_?"

"You made a face!" She held up the photo to show it to her. She had her tongue out the side of her mouth and her eyes crossed.

"Oh yeah... so I did."

"Picture-ruiner," En said, slapping Melissa's shoulder with the Polariod.

"Ye_ah_," Watkins agreed.

The other pictures were thankfully free of contorted Melissa-mugs. Everyone looked varying degrees of decent on them (except Watkins who looked amazing on every one, including the one where she'd had her eyes closed), and it was fun just passing them around and looking at them, 'her' group all together on one photo. En selected one of them, the one she thought was the best-looking (and the one she looked best on, grinning broadly with her two arms held up in an enthusiastic look-at-us pose), and said, "I'm gonna send this one home as a card, 'kay?"

Nobody minded.

"Now then, little lady," Meyers said, rubbing his tummy. "I believe you mentioned something about dinner?"

"Ooh! Yeah, right. There's like, this really fancy place a ways down the street, called the Ultra-Luxe. Supposed to have the awesomest meat in New Vegas."

"The Ultra-Luxe," Sunny asked with a worried frown. "Sounds expensive."

Oh yes, it sure did! Grinning widely and feeling awesome, En said, "Money's not an object. I'm buying. Because you guys are the awesomest ever."

"You're right about that," Meyers said, "Apart from your butchering of the English language. I could use a fine brahmin steak."

"What're we waitin' for, yeah?" Melissa said. "Let's mosey."

And mosey they did, En strutting at the head of her group, the money in her bag feeling deliciously heavy. The Ultra-Luxe came into view and it looked every bit the place where en could spend obscene amounts of caps on a good dinner. The place was as big as most casinos, laid out in a semi-circle that seemed to be eager to close visitors in its arms.

"In we go," En announced.

The man at the reception desk had another opinion. He was dressed in a fine suit, with a bow tie and a mask on, one of those you saw in old photos of masqerade balls, covering only the area around the eyes. He cleared his throat and said, in a condescending little tone as his little immaculately groomed moustache twitched, "Miss, we... have a dress code here."

"A what code?"

"This is what I feared," Ringo remarked behind her, with a sigh.

"Evening attire, miss. Jacket and tie for gentlemen, evening dress for ladies. I'm afraid we uphold certain standards, and _casuals_ off the street – "

En plunked her bag of caps on the reception desk. "We're casuals with money, dude."

"_Dude_?" the man repeated, scrunching up his face, or what was visible of it behind his silly mask. But the caps seemed to make him somewhat less reserved. "If you errr... don't have evening attire, we will be happy to provide you with some, for a small fee?"

"Awh, jillaroo, come on," Melissa piped up behind En.

"Shush, Melissa, it'll be fun. Yes, mister reception desk dude, provide us with some please."

He had clearly hoped for another answer, but he extended his arm towards the cloak room. "Please, proceed inside. Two assistants will be with you shortly."

"Bog this shit," Melissa said. "I'm goin' with the guys."

"You're gonna what now?" Sunny asked, blinking.

"With the guys. I'm not puttin' on a pikin' dress. I'm sure I'll find a shirt and jacket that fits me."

"Miss, please," the receptionist protested. "We have plenty of – "

"Belt up, you," Melissa said curtly. Neither En nor the man knew what the expression meant, and yet somehow, the guy was perfectly capable of obeying, shutting his mouth and pulling back.

"Aw, come on, Melissa," Watkins insisted. "It'll be fun?"

"I look like I've got a bod for dresses?" She had a point. "Nah, blondie, trust me, it'll be easier on your eyes if I wear a suit."

"Fine," En said, "_Fine_. Come on, let's get changed."

The lady in the cloak room nodded kindly as they entered, though she clearly hadn't been expecting 'casuals off the streets'. She remained professional however, asking everyone their sizes and not making a fuss about measuring them up if they didn't know – which was the case for everyone but Watkins, of course. She could recite her measurements in her sleep, probably. Then it was off to the changing booths, where En wriggled herself into a dress for the first time in her life. They'd all gotten the same design, an elegant white dress that was as revealing as you wanted it to be, simply by buttoning up the cleavage higher or lower, depending on personal tastes. En made sure she wasn't showing anything below her collarbones, but she was willing to bet Watkins wouldn't do up a single button.

And yep, how could she have guessed. Watkins came out of the booth right after En, showing her assets with all the subtlety of a rhinoceros charging into a plate glass window. The dress was tight in her waist and gave her even more of an hourglass figure than normal clothes. Oh, man, Meyers would gnash his teeth. Sunny showed a bit of cleavage, but nowhere near what Watkins was advertising. She promptly remarked, "Blondie, your cleavage is almost down to your belly button."

"I know," Watkins chirped. "Cool, huh?"

"No," Sunny disapproved. "Not cool. You don't always _have_ to be the sexiest one in the room, Leza."

"Well I'm just... if you got it, flaunt it, you know?"

"Sunny's got a point," En said, even though she knew Sunny was mostly speaking out of jealousy. Sunny would get needy again if En didn't take her side every once in a while. "There's a line between attractive and vulgar."

"Tch. I don't look vulgar?"

"If you bend over," En said, "The entire restaurant will get a table-full of tit."

"Um, I _know_ low-cut my clothes can be without, like, wardrobe malfunctions?"

With a frown, Sunny said, "Blondie. Button up a bit."

Watkins let out a frustrated grunt. "Sheesh, fine, _fine_." She drew the line at two buttons, though, so she was still the most becleavaged one of the three. But yeah, let her have her moments in the sun.

"Your masks, ladies?" the woman staffing the cloak room said, holding out three white half-masks, like the one she wore.

"Errr... we're fine," En said.

The woman insisted, but didn't seem to want to force them. "You'll blend in much better with a mask than without, miss."

"No, no, it's cool." They didn't have to 'blend in', they just needed an awesome dinner. And those masks looked hella creepy.

"Very well," the woman said grudgingly, then held out the masks to Sunny and Leza. "Ladies?"

"No, thanks," Sunny said, and Leza made a point of saying, "Uh, wear a mask? Like, cover up _this_ face?"

The cloak room woman's mouth narrowed to a disapproving stripe, but she remained professional. "Yes, that would be a shame indeed. Enjoy your evening."

Somewhat embarrassed by Watkins' narcissistic reply, En said, "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

As they went out, Sunny grumbled at Watkins, "'Cover up this face'. Seriously."

Watkins only responded with an airheaded giggle. She probably didn't even realize how pretentious what she'd said had been. En liked her, but god damn what a moron she was.

They emerged from the cloak room to find the gentlemen and 'gentleman' already waiting for them. Of course men didn't need that much time to get ready. En had to admit to herself she'd spent quite a bit of time admiring herself in the mirror. Maybe she wasn't as beautiful as Watkins or as toned as Sunny, but she'd indulged in a bit of vanity and fuck anyone who said it wasn't proper.

Ringo looked every bit the classy gentleman in his tuxedo, as En had known he would. It fit him perfectly and it looked as if he'd been accustomed to wearing one all his life. And En had to admit, the old man didn't look too shabby either. He needed a shave, but apart from that, he looked just like one of those plantation owners she'd seen in old magazines and books. The typical example of a Southern gentleman. En had no idea what the difference between a Northern and a Southern gentleman was, but he definitely looked Southern. He'd left his stetson in the cloak room and combed his hair into a neat side-split. Any lady his age would have been helpless prey. Alas, Watkins wasn't his age, as became again painfully apparent when Meyers offered his arm to her and gallantly said, "Ma'am, may I escort you?" and Watkins stupidly relied with, "Ummm, better not. I kinda don't want people to think you're... you know, my sugar daddy?"

Nicely handled, Leza. Meyers shrunk under the rejection, almost invisibly, but En had noticed. And so had Melissa, who looked disturbingly androgynous in her tuxedo. It didn't fit her at all, but En supposed a dress would have been even worse. At least the jacket covered her muscled arms. Sunny of course did accept Ringo's arm, and thankfully Melissa didn't have the warped sense of humour to offer hers to En.

As they walked to the double doors that led to the dining room, two women came out, wearing the same dresses they did, only with the masks. They seemed to be avoiding their gaze, but it was only natural that people wanted to be left alone. It was only as they passed them that En noticed one of the women had her hair covered with a green scarf.

At the same time as Melissa, En called out, "Veronica?"

The woman froze, turned around and then went, "Shhh! Not so loud. We're in disguise."

"Nice disguise," En pointed out. "The scarf is totally not a give-away."

The other woman pulled Veronica's arm. "Come on, we can't waste time with these losers." Nice to see you again too, Cass.

"Geez, Cass. But yeah," Veronica said, "We can't really stay. We uh... kinda shook things up around here. What are you even doing here, by the way?"

"We just wanted to have dinner, actually."

"Oh." Veronica let out a suspicious little laugh. "It's safe to do so. Now. I think."

"Veronica," Cass urged. "Come _on_."

"Okay okay." Veronica let Cass drag her away. "See you later, guys!"

"We're at the Tops tonight if you feel like coming," En called after her.

"Okaymaybebye!"

"That was... strange," Melissa only remarked.

"Kinda. Any idea what they were doing?"

"Not a one."

"Hm."

"Ladies?" Ringo called to them, standing in front of the double doors already with Sunny and the others. "Care to expedite our entry?"

"Sure, yeah, sorry."

Two men in tuxedoes and masks bowed as they entered the dining room. Strangely, the place wasn't organised like most restaurants. There were no tables dotting the floor in various islands. Instead the dining hall was organized into a U-shape, with tables set against each other, hugging all the walls but one. The wall that didn't have any tables had a podium where, presumably, speeches were given by the owner or the chef or whatever.

Apart from its strange organisation, the dining hall looked gorgeous. The floors were white marble tiles, not a uniform white, because that was simply impossible to find, but the colours didn't differ very much, so they must have done an insane amount of work scavenging the tiles – or paid an outrageous amount for it. The rest of the dining hall was equally opulent, the walls clean and meticulously scrubbed, and all along them hung renaissance-style portraits in finely-carved wooden frames.

"Um, like, whoa?" Watkins remarked.

Melissa shrugged and went, "Meh."

"There's still seats over there," En pointed out. What she didn't like about tables organized this way, was that two people always had to sit with a complete stranger next to them, so En took care to let Ringo and Sunny go first and stay in front of the others so she'd be in the middle. Watkins, she noticed, did the exact same thing, staying childishly close to En, and zipping in front of her right when they were close to the chairs. And so they ended up with Ringo at one end of the group, and Meyers (probably to his Watkins-smitten chagrin) on the other, and En in between Leza and Melissa. The tables were set with fancy plates and two wine glasses each, polished to a crystal shine. Silver cutlery (or made to look like silver, at least) lay neatly arranged on either side of the plates. The chairs were comfortable wooden ones with fake-leather cushions. This place hadn't stolen its name.

"This is nice," Sunny remarked.

"'s all too fancy-pants," Melissa grumbled in response.

"I wouldn't want to be your wallet at the end of this, miss En," Ringo said.

"Tch. I said it was fine."

Meyers had struck up a conversation with the pudgy gentleman next to him, and briefly turned towards En to impart, "this place is famous for its beef. This will be a feast long remembered!" Then he turned back to his conversation partner.

There were small saucers with hunks of bread on every table, and Watkins greedily snatched one. "I am like, _so_ hungry?" With that, she wolfed it down. Ah, what the Hell, En thought, and answered the call of her grumbling stomach, grabbing a chunk of bread as well, though eating it in a manner slightly more dignified – but only slightly. The bread was surprisingly soft on the inside and crusty on the outside, as if it was freshly baked, which come to think of it, it probably was. Yeah, this would be an expensive meal. But screw it!

Watkins had, remarkably, struck up a civilized conversation with Ringo and Sunny, and Melissa had gone up to go to the bathroom (at least, that's what En thought 'dunny' meant), so En was on her own a bit, and she took the time to take the polaroid picture she'd slid into her ensemble. She motioned to a waiter and when he arrived, asked him for a pen. The waiter promptly took his out of his jacket pocket and presented it to her. Her mouth full of bread, En mumbled a "Thanks!"

She began writing, starting with _hi mom and dad sorry I haven't sent anything in like forever_. She wrote and wrote, scribbling across the entire back of the polaroid picture, and when she was done, she only had a small space left to put the address on. The Mojave Express people would see the polaroid-turned-post card was hers and deliver it even without payment. Perks of being a feelance employee.

Her timing couldn't have been better, because just as she was done, the waiter slid a plate on the table in front of her, and oh man did her stomach grumble again. The plate was richly filled with a slab of excellently-grilled beef, baked potatoes and an assortment of raw vegetables. Next to En, Meyers wrung his hands in anticipation, and even Melissa had to admit it hadn't been such a bad idea to come here after all.

"Dig in, guys," En announced, and not a single one of them minded doing so. The beef tasted absolutely divine, even better than Meyers had made it (and that had been pretty damn awesome already!), and the potatoes and slightly dressed salad just made the whole plate complete.

Everyone completely cleared his plate, enjoying the wonderful taste of the beef. Even Meyers had to admit he couldn't grill them this good. During the dinner, En chatted with just about everyone, though the U-shaped lay-out made it a bit difficult to natter with Ringo or Meyers. Most of the evening, En just enjoyed hearing the others talk, and occasionally, she offered a bit of wisdom or of course a hilarious joke in between. Melissa was acting strangely though. She'd asked a waiter for the time three times already, and the third time, she'd told Watkins, "Blondie, don't forget, yeah?", which had made Watkins rather nervous and only gotten a timid, "Uh, yeah," out of her.

As soon as En was done, Melissa said, "Jillaroo, blondie and me gotta go a little early, yeah? Make sure you're at the Tops at ten, alright?"

"Uh, sure, sure. Why, you got a train to catch?"

Melissa grinned mysteriously. "You'll see."

Argh, served her own medicine again!

Melissa enjoyed every bit of it as she got up, smirking at En all the way. Then she took Watins by the shoulder strap. "Up you go, blondie. Out of those harlequin clothes. We've got a date, yeah?"

Watkins paled and immediately went all jittery again, but she rose and went with Melissa, looking like she was being sent off to war.

While En had been wondering what the Hell the two were up to, a man had taken position at the podium, ready to address the diners. His mask was more fancifully inlaid, with a gold trim and a few tacky purple feathers. En shot a brief look back at Watkins and Melissa, exiting through the double doors, and then decided there was no point speculating.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man at the podium began. "Welcome, to the Ultra-Luxe, the finest place for fine dining." His double use of 'fine' apparently remained unnoticed to him. "For years, the Ultra-Luxe has strived to bring you nothing but the finest dishes." Another 'fine'. Hoo boy. "We have always sought to push the borders of fine gourmet cooking," ugh, "and tonight, on this auspicious occasion, we have indeed re-drawn these borders."

There was a short applause, which only made En and her friends make a puzzled face.

"For you see, ladies and gentlemen," the man went on, "you have, tonight, partaken in something entirely new. And you have partaken and found it was good. You have, unknowingly, dined in the _true_ style of the White Glove Society. The _true_ White Glove Society." En was surprised he didn't add, 'the _fine_ White Glove Society'.

He raised both arms and his voice, "You have dined and experienced the wonders of new tastes. Because ladies and gentlemen, you have sampled the forbidden. That which you thought was beef... was something else entirely."

"... I don't like the sound of this," Sunny grunted. En didn't either.

"You have sampled the most forbidden feast conceivable! The meat you have eaten... is that of man."

_WHAT?_

"We've... we've eaten _what_?" Meyers stammered hoarsely.

"I... think I'm gonna be sick," Sunny groaned.

En started feeling queasy as well as the words sank in. They'd eaten human meat? Oh shit this had to be a joke, this couldn't be true...

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Know you have sampled and enjoyed a new palette, and that now, this fruit is forbidden no longer!"

What the Hell was this nut job saying?!

As En sat dumbstruck at her table, she heard the sound of retching coming from both sides, far away. She didn't even register it as _the sound of people vomiting_. She didn't even feel her own stomach start to slowly contract and release.

"This has to be a joke," Ringo said, sounding anything but certain. "Why would they possibly feed us human meat?"

"I... dunno," Meyers said from the other side. "But if it's a joke, it's a pretty piss poor one."

"There are no more limits, no more restrictive ethical norms to stop you from enjoying our gourmet cooking now!" the man at the podium shouted, sounding half-crazy. "No more stifling laws, imposed by society that... that... ahhh... that..." He suddenly fell silent, his mouth open in amazement as the door behind him had opened and two people stood in the doorway, looking completely stupid. It was a guy in worn traveller's clothes, and of all people, _Garland_.

What the Hell was going on here.

The man at the podium didn't seem to get it either. "The... the meat. What...?"

"Uh..." Garland began awkwardly, he'd clearly not expected to emerge into a full dining hall, "... don't worry. You've eaten normal beef." He added a nervous, "Heh, heh."

"What is the meaning of this?!" the man with the mask shouted. "This man was supposed to be..."

"Eaten, _right_?" the young man in traveller's clothes finished. "You crazy sonovabitch! My dad's gonna – "

"This bastard tried to make us eat _human_!" a voice shouted, and at that moment the first plate sailed through the air. It went past the masked man's head and just barely missed Garland. It was the signal for the entire crowd to spring into action. Some picked up plates, glasses and everything they could get their hands on and launched it at the man at the podium, and others rushed forward, their fists raised in the air. The target managed to duck out of the way of the first two projectiles, but the third, a rather massive metal bowl of potatoes, blanged straight into the masked dude's head, knocking his mask askew on his face and almost bowling him over, right into Garland, who shoved him back the other way. He staggered along for a second or two more, food and plates and utensils flying around his ears, until a wine glass caught him on the cheek, sending him to the ground right before the crowd of patrons was upon him, and he disappeared into a flurry of fists and shoes.

Food kept flying through the air, splatting apart on just about every member of the raging crowd, and when one of them took a particularly mean bread basket to the back of the head, he turned around and scooped up a handful of mash, pitching it in the general direction of the offending basket launcher. The mash hit a woman – probably the wrong one – right in the face, making her drop the silver coaster she intended to use as a frisbee. In response to the ballistic attack on his companion, the man next to the face-mashed woman snatched an apple from the fruit bowl placed as dessert, and with a flawless throw, smacked it right in the groin of the mash-thrower. It went from bad to worse after that, and soon the food, china, and glasses were flying through the air, and any target was a good target.

"This is..." Meyers could only breathe, with his mouth open. They stood looking on, completely amazed as the crowd had now split into two groups, pelting each other with anything they could get their hands on.

"Sweetie, we better go," Sunny said, barely dodging a stray porcelain milk jug.

"Go? Like Hell!" En said. "This is a classic food fight! This is totally amazing!" She realized her face bore an inane grin. But why the Hell not, food fights were pure awesomeness.

"It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye," Meyers muttered, watching as an overweight woman got hit right in the tit by a chunk of leftover steak. She retaliated by winging a spread of grapes at her attacker. En found it all completely the best thing ever.

"Meyers is right, miss En," Ringo said, taking her by the upper arm. "It's not just food that's flying through the air and it's getting downright dangerous."

"Indeed," Meyers concurred. "People could get seriously hurt in rock fights; a kid could get his skull split, a mouthful of teeth, or even lose an eye."

"You've read too many books, old man," En said. But when a coffee cup zipped right past her head, so close she could feel the air displacement on her ear, she knew they were right. It was time to go, the awesomeness of the food fight notwithstanding. Ringo tugged on her arm again. "We need to go, miss En."

Garland had the same idea, rushing through the crowd with his head down, able to dodge most of the flying debris except a salt shaker that got him in the leg and pastry that flew apart on his back. The guy who'd almost been eaten got off with a tomato glancing off his shoulder.

"Haha, holy crap!" Garland laughed as he reached them. "The Hell are you doing here?"

"Well, we're – " En began as Ringo pulled her arm.

"This food fight is awesome!" Garland interrupted her. "If I'd known House's jobs would be that much fun – "

"Don't encourage her, you," Sunny snapped at him. "Come on before one of us catches a bottle to the face."

"Aw, but – "

"Move it, lady," Ringo said, pulling her out of the dining hall. When they emerged into the hallway, several White Glove Society chaperones came running, their canes in their white-gloved fists. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into. En and her friends let them pass and ducked into the cloak room. The poor girl staffing it looked positively terrified. "What on Earth is going on in there?"

"Just a good old fashioned food fight," Sunny said quickly. "No need to be afraid. Our clothes, please?"

Her face still nonplussed, the woman fetched their clothes and after a short bit in the changing booths, they were back in their casuals.

Garland was still there when they came out, looking at the door with an amused grin on his face. When he saw En and Sunny, his grin widened and he said, "One of those masked bouncer guys just crawled out with a pine-apple jammed on his head like a hat."

"Haha, no shit," En laughed. "They're probably getting their asses handed to them in there."

"What the Hell was all that about?" Sunny demanded to know.

"Ah, just..." he waved his hand. "One of those fops was tryin' to return to the old ways of their society, when they ate anything as long as it was something new. So he figured if he'd give a bunch of people human meat..."

"... they'd stop worryin' about the taboo since they already ate it," Meyer finished, standing next to them with Ringo. Through the double doors, they could still hear ruckus. The fight was still going strong. The things En would give for a camera in there. "That's damn twisted."

"But you stopped them, right?" Sunny asked, worried.

"That guy I had with me look eaten to you?"

"It was just beef, correct?" Ringo verified.

"Yep. You're good." There was a loud bang against the double doors, but they didn't open. En hoped it was one of the stupidly dressed 'guards' that had been thrown through the air and landed against the door. "I gotta go now, though. House wanted me to be discrete."

"He should have known better," En pointed out.

With a sheepish grin at the double doors, Garland admitted, "Yeah. His mistake."

"Well, uh, sweetie, we should head to the Tops now. Melissa wanted us there in five minutes."

"Oh right. You coming, trenchcoat?"

"Uh... what's happening at the Tops?"

"Something mysterious apparently. Your buddies are invited too."

"Uh... sure, I guess. Gonna have some caps to blow after I report to House."

"Heh. I know the feeling." Especially since dinner tonight had unexpectedly been free.

"Alright, see you there."

"Word. Then let's roll."


	58. A World Supported by Emotion

**FIFTY-EIGHT**

**The Tops**

**July 16****th**

**21:57**

"Welcome to the Tops casi- ahhh," Swank cut himself off as he noticed En. "Nice... nice to see you again."

"Hey Swank," En greeted cheerfully. "Okay if we line your casino's coffers for a bit more?"

The man's face faintly registered relief. "Yes, of course." Apparently he still wasn't entirely convinced that En wasn't House' personal hit man. Or hit woman.

"Thanks, see ya."

They were running a bit late, and Melissa's frown made sure they knew. "Thought you'd never show."

"Oh man," En said to Melissa. "It was awesome. It turned into a food fight and everything!"

"A food f... Well, explain later, yeah? C'mon, showtime."

"Right, right."

Melissa led them to the top floor, where they'd seen the show a few days ago. What the Hell was she planning? "Sit down," she said to everyone. "Cept you, jillaroo."

What? Surely she wasn't planning something with _her_? "Huh? Why not m – "

"You're gonna go get the beers, yeah?"

In spite of herself, En breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, sure. What's everyone having?"

"I'll have a scotch thank you very much," Meyers said – of course. Ringo and Sunny ordered a beer and Melissa told En to get her one too.

"So uh, what's Leza having? She in the bathroom?" En asked.

Melissa grinned mysteriously. "Don't you worry 'bout her, yeah? She's not in the bathroom and she doesn't need anythin' to drink."

"You haven't murdered her, cut her into pieces and left her in trash bags across town, have you?"

"Shut up and go get our drinks."

"Slave driver." She went to get them regardless, taking care not to be too conspicuous about the rather crazy amount of caps she was carrying in the bag on her skirt belt, and as she stood at the bar waiting for the bartender to get the beers, she saw Garland walk in alongside Cass. Veronica followed a few paces behind, and even the Arcade guy had come along. Veronica was still wearing the dress she'd borrowed or stolen at the White Glove Society.

"Hey kiddo," Garland said, giving her a friendly face that actually looked sincere.

"Hiya. Hey what are you guys having? I'm buying," En said back.

"Uh, beer would be nice," Garland replied. "Next round's on me though. Looks like we both got paid huh?"

She grinned back. "Mine's just the advance 'cause I'm not done yet, but yeah, no money problems for a while. You guys want anything?"

"No thanks," came Cass' gruff reply. Should have known that one was coming.

"Ooh, can I have a beer too, hun?" Veronica asked.

"Of course, yeah." And figuring she'd appreciate the compliment, En added, "That dress really suits you."

Veronica made a little squeal of delight. "Thanks, hun. Always wanted one of those. Got Garland to thank for it though, but I'll give him some brawling pointers to make it up to him."

"Sure yeah. Arcade?" She figured it was fine to use his first name even though she didn't know him well.

"Errmmm... red wine if they have any?"

"Can't see why they shouldn't."

"Then I'll have one of those, to your health."

"We're sitting over there if you feel like sitting with us." En said, pointing at her friends, seated at the back of the place.

Garland exchanged an uncertain glance with Cass. "I'm not sure if – "

"C'mon," Veronica cut him off. "Don't be a lamer."

Cass rolled her eyes in a do-whatever-you-want gesture.

"Sure, let's go," Garland decided. "C'mon."

"I'll help with the drinks," Veronica said, staying with En at the bar. "So uh, heard there was something special planned... what are we supposed to be waiting for?"

"I... don't know actually," En admitted to her embarrassment. "But it involves Watkins somehow."

"Oh. Her."

En had had enough. "Okay Veronica. Watkins claims she has _no_ idea, and I kinda believe her. So I'm asking you. What has she ever done to you?"

The drinks came, and En absently paid the bartender, waiting for Veronica's reply. She seemed to be conflicted, doubting whether or not to talk about it. So it had been more than just visceral animosity. Something had happened between those two. Veronica took a swill from one of the beers and sat down on a bar stool. "They can wait a bit for their drinks."

En remained silent.

"Can I trust you on this? You won't tell anyone?"

En nodded. "Promised. Unless it's something so awesome I can't keep quiet about it without my head exploding in a shower of stars, rainbows and candy."

Veronica gave a slight chuckle. "No. Not awesome at all."

Since they'd be sitting there for a bit, En took a swallow from her cola as well. "Okay, I'll stop trying to be funny. What happened?"

Veronica took a long sigh, and her face became sad. En guessed that was a sight very rarely seen. "I don't like talking about this, but... well, there's been one person in my life. One person who was really special, you know?"

"Mm?"

"And I uh... like to think she thought the same about me. We were both in the Brotherhood, and spent a lot of time together in training. Christine, she... she was amazing."

"Was?"

"I'll get to that in a sec. There was a lot of awkward, you know, romantic tension at first because neither of us dared to say how she felt or even acknowledge it to herself," she permitted herself a sad smile at the memory, "but eventually, when we spent an evening repairing a plasma rifle until the small hours, we just... well, one thing led to another and that evening, we became lovers."

"While fixing a plasma rifle. Romantic," En said with a grin, trying to keep the atmosphere a bit light-hearted and even partially succeeding.

"Tell me about it. Anyway, we kept it on the down-low, because the Brotherhood, well... they're not really keen on same-sex stuff."

"Really? No lonely bucketheads with lesbian porn on their computers?"

"Heh. Don't know about that, but the Brotherhood isn't _that_ bigoted. They have nothing against same-sex relationships on the basis of principle, but it's got practical reasons, see, we're a really small community. If we don't procreate, we die out. And two women, well..."

"Too many uteri, not enough testicles."

"Exactly." She sighed and took another drink. "So we did it in secret. Which was kinda exciting, but yeah, that's probably not what you're interested in right now."

"Uh... not really no."

"We were good at it, though. Keeping it secret. We knew it couldn't last forever, but we wanted to make it last as long as we could. Until one day I was called to Elder Elijah's office. Christine was there too, and from her face, I knew our short wonderful time was at an end."

"They'd found out, huh?"

Veronica drained her beer and nodded. "They did. Christine was whisked off to fuck-knows-where, supposedly for a secret mission, and I was reassigned to outside duty, sent to recover tech and scout and map the surrounding area."

"Oh yeah, like they did to Watkins."

Veronica's face hardened. "Yeah. Exactly like they did to _her_."

"So what's the beef with her then?"

"Sheesh, read between the lines, kiddo."

Of course. That had to be it. "Wait... she did? Are you sure?"

Veronica nodded, taking the second beer. En motioned the bartender for two in replacement. "When they cast me out – sorry, _reassigned_ me, I asked Elder Elijah how he knew. Who'd told him. He didn't want to say, only said someone had seen us kiss in the computer room, but when Ramos escorted me out, he told me who."

"_She_ told them?"

Tears stood in Veronica's eyes. "Ramos had no reason to lie." Her eyes fixed on En and the sadness in them was deeper than she'd possibly imagined Veronica could ever show. "En, she ratted us out. She told on us, simply out of... spite, or pure meanness, or just to have the pleasure of tattling, I don't know."

As guilty as En felt to admit it to herself, she believed every word Veronica said. Because Watkins was a homophobe, Watkins could be small-minded on occasion, and most importantly, she could be so stupid at times that she didn't realize the consequences her actions could have. "Geez. So that's why you hate her."

"We never got along, because me and dumb bimbos who spread their legs for every guy don't mesh well, but what she did there... I couldn't ever forgive her for that. I lost the only person I've ever loved. Because she simply couldn't stand the idea of me being happy. Or maybe because she couldn't stand the idea of two women being happy. I don't know."

"Have you um... have you tried talking to her about it? You know, having a sit-down?"

Veronica's upper lip pulled back and she held her right fist at eye level. "I've got her sit-down right here."

"Maybe... maybe she's got an explanation?"

"What explanation could she possibly have, En?" Veronica asked, emotional. "I know she's your friend, for God knows what reason, but you can't defend her on this. I'd beat her into a wheelchair if I didn't care about upsetting you guys."

En thought for a moment before asking her, but she knew it had to be done. "Veronica. Can you please talk to her? I completely understand how you feel, but even though she can be a total idiot sometimes, she's my friend and she deserves to at least know what she did wrong."

Veronica looked away. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Maybe there is. You won't know unless you try. I'm asking you because I think it'd be best for both of you. Maybe hearing her confess can give you some closure?"

Veronica wiped her tears with her wrist and got up. "I don't need closure. I know you mean well, hun, but I've got nothing to say to her." She picked up the drinks, holding as many as she could. "Now come on, let's go sit with the others, their beer's getting warm."

"Sure?"

She nodded. "Sure." With a smile, she added, "Thanks for trying though."

Veronica didn't waste any time and sat herself down straight on Melissa's lap and planted a kiss on her mouth. It was still strange for En to see how they could both act so in love without actually feeling any of it. Not the real thing, anyway. They both called it 'just having fun'. Strange.

"Well, I suppose one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth," Ringo muttered, "but it would have been wondrous if our refreshments had actually still been cold."

"Stop grumbling, stuffy-man," En said to Ringo, shaking off the last of the discomfort Veronica had given her by calling her 'average', and sitting down between Sunny and Garland. Cass was nowhere to be seen. "So, Melissa, what's the damn _surprise_?"

Melissa took a swill from her beer. "Shut up, it'll happen soon enough."

"It better. I'm on the edge of my seat here."

"Hey uh," Sunny said. "That conversation you had at the bar looked pretty heavy?"

"Mm? Oh, yeah, kinda. Was enlightening though."

"Ooh, gossip? Come on, give me some deets."

En grinned, "Nah it's between them."

"Oh, why her and Watkins hate each other?"

"Mmyeah. Veronica really hates her guts."

Sunny briefly looked to Veronica and then back at En. "I'm beginning to like this lady."

Oh yeah, En had forgotten. Sunny wasn't a big fan of Watkins either. "What, because she hates Leza?" she asked, annoyed. "She's never been anything but nice to you, Sunny. Geez."

"Alright, alright. It's just... kinda hard not to hate her sometimes you know?"

"Sometimes, yeah. But, I dunno, I think she's got a good heart underneath all the oh-I'm-so-sexy and oh-silly-me-saying-stupid-things-that-cause-proble ms-for-everyone." En shifted in her seat. "I really wonder what the Hell Melissa was up to with her." A look at Melissa, laughing at one of Veronica's jokes, didn't get her any further.

Then the lights went out and the spot on the stage went on. There, in front of the curtain, stood Tommy Torini, all by his lonesome in the spot light. The eye patch he wore was apparently not part of his outfit for the musical, because he wore it now too.

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is my great pleasure to introduce to you tonight, a new revelation, fresh from the hot hard wasteland of the Mojave..."

Whoa, crap! Of course! This was what Melissa had been up to. Holy shit, for real? En leaned towards Melissa. "You _didn't_!"

With a grin, Melissa took a drink from her beer and said, "Quiet, listen to the man, yeah?"

"... a lady whose voice is as amazing as her looks, miss Leza Lorelai!"

Shit in her boots, this _was_ for real.

The curtain opened and there she was, in a bright red dress, the cleavage cut low (of course), and the hips and waist hugging her body as if clinging on for dear life, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a yellow waterfall, one lock over her eye as always, and red gloves that went all the way to her elbow.

All the elegance of her clothes and hair notwithstanding, Leza's face looked terrified.

"You _did_!" En said to Melissa. "Haha, god damn!"

Meyers sat there, dumbfounded. The old gentleman's heart was about to ache even more, but En decided not to occupy herself with that thought. Not now. The music started, a slow, melancholic tune. Behind Leza were a couple of musicians, in the darkness.

"Her voice as amazing as she looks?" Veronica echoed cattishly. "She speaks like a duck with a cold after a nose job."

"You haven't heard her sing," Melissa said to that. "That's somethin' you gotta hear to believe."

Garland sat back and dragged from his cigarette, looking far more interested in the girl on stage than Cass would probably tolerate him to.

The music went on, and with trembling fingers, Leza took hold of the mic, gently holding it with her fingertips.

"Yeah, a stripper! Show us your tits!" Someone in the audience hollered. It was a dude sitting right in front of them, and Ringo, his face perfectly calm, took the ash tray on the table, a pewter disk the size of a tea saucer, and with a flick of the wrist, sent it sailing through the air, whacking the cat caller right in the back of the head with a modest but thoroughly determined _tock_. The rude bastard turned around, but when he saw how many people were at the table, his face became decidedly less challenging.

"Eyes forward, mouth shut, vulgar cretin," Ringo said with a flick of his finger. The jackass wisely did as he was told.

"Yeah," Veronica agreed on a lower volume. "Spare us the sight of Watkins' tits." En ignored the jaded remark.

Leza, meanwhile, brought her mouth, brightly accented with red lipstick, to the mic and inhaled.

"_Maybe I didn't treat you..."_

The first line was off key, wobbly, and insecure. Damn, that was the nerves, En was sure of it, but the audience wouldn't see it that way. When she looked at Tommy Torini, though, standing off the side of the stage, she saw he gave Leza a confident and calming nod.

"_Quite as good as I should have..."_

This line was better, more steady and more on key. It was the same song she'd sung in the shower, and she'd sung it perfectly there. She could do the same here, all she had to do was get her nerves under control.

"_Maybe I didn't love you..."_

Yep, she was getting there. All she had to do was calm herself a little more.

"_Quite as often as I should have..."_

She was hitting the notes perfectly now, sustaining them with only a minimum of wobbling, if a bit quietly. And as she stood there, in the spot light, scared beyond her wits but looking absolutely beautiful, En for the first time didn't think 'stupid sexy Watkins'. It was as if another person stood there, a breathtaking superstar, a woman like you thought you only saw in the movies. En thought it without any envy or jealousy: Watkins was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

"_Little things I should have said, and done..."_

En briefly shot a glance at Veronica, and she sat there, her mouth open in amazement. And En could swear there wasn't any hatred there, no thoughts of vengeance or loathing, just someone staring in awe.

"She's... amazing," Sunny admitted next to her.

"_I just never took the time..."_

"She is," Ringo said flatly. "Can't believe it's the same Watkins."

On the other side of the table, Garland leaned over to Veronica and briefly said something, to which Veronica nodded, then he rose. Melissa sat there, Veronica still on her lap, leaning back and grinning proudly.

"_You were always on my mind..."_

She was singing everything right now, getting the notes spot on and keeping her voice steady without making it flat, but she was still very quiet, singing it like a nervous little mouse despite her already impressive performance.

And then it happened, that one thing she needed to give her confidence a boost. In a perfect, full, flawless baritone, a voice next to En echoed,

"_You were always on my mind."_

Holy shit Meyers! It was his turn now to get awed looks, as everyone at the table immediately turned their eyes on him. He just sat there, staring into his scotch, his face unreadable.

That was all Leza needed to find her confidence. After a nervous but relieved and thankful little smile in the direction of the singing voice, she pulled out all the stops, inhaled deeply, opened her throat and _sang_, in a loud, clear, powerful voice,

"_Tell me..."_

Tommy Torini's grin became so wide it was about to split his face in two.

"_Tell me your sweet love hasn't died..."_

At the bar behind her, Garland stood talking with another man, his black hair modelled into a greasy pompadour style, side burns and a crooked smile on his face, and wearing a white disco-style suit. The other man seemed pretty important, and he was nodding, looking seriously impressed with Watkins' singing.

"_Give me, give me one more chance to keep you satisfied..."_

Leza sang another verse, this one flawless and confident, and reached the chorus again,

"_You were always on my mind..."_

And this time, Meyers kept quiet, probably too embarrassed, but the man in the disco suit did the honours, in a full warm voice somewhere between a baritone and a tenor,

"_You were always on my mind."_

Seemed like he knew the song too. And well enough, because you had to be pretty sure of yourself to pipe up in a full venue, knowing you'd make an enormous fool of yourself if you were wrong.

As the song ended, a monstrous applause ensued, with people whistling on their fingers, and some even getting off their seats to give her a standing ovation. And that after one song. There were the occasional vulgar hoots here and there, but even those had an undertone of reverence. Hastily, Melissa and Veronica set down beers on the table for everyone, including En, and dammit, that was a damn good thing! There were three times as many beers as there were people, but that too was a damn good thing.

Leza's triumph lasted until the end. She sung two more songs, slow ones, one about a kiss to build a dream on, and one about maybe thinking of someone when they were all alone. As her songs went on, she got stars in her eyes and seemed close to tears of happiness. But then, to put the crown of awesome on her evening, she let a short silence fall, and peeped out a sincere and emotional, "Thank you so much... umm, this is like, the last one?", in her regular voice, unifying the stage-Watkins and the on-the-road Watkins for one brief magical moment, after which the band set in a more up-tempo tune and she began,

"_Bright light city gonna set my soul_

_Gonna set my soul on fire..."_

There wasn't a single person in the audience who wasn't grinning and nodding to the beat. Not even Veronica Santangelo.

"_Got a whole lotta money that's ready to burn_

_So get those stakes up higher..."_

God damn, go Leza!

"_There's a thousand pretty boys waitin' out there_

_And they're livin' Devil-may-care_

_And I'm just the Devil with love to spare"_

And then everyone who knew the song (not, sadly, including En, but Ringo, Meyers, Garland, the guy in the disco suit, and even Melissa) sang out at the top of their lungs,

"_VIVA LAS VEGAS_

_VIVA LAS VEGAS!"_

Another verse came, and this time En was ready for it, 'singing' along in a horribly off-key and shrill voice,

"_VIVA LAS VEGAS_

_VIVA LAS VEGAS!"_

Leza was rockin' out now, moving her hips to the music, and even doing a few modest dance steps when she wasn't singing. There was a bridge, then another verse followed, and again, for the last time, as Leza did a sassy strut along the stage, the whole audience sang along,

"_VIVA LAS VEGAS_

_VIVA LAS VEGAS!"_

Leza sustained the last note as long as she could, with the audience breaking into applause once more, this one lasting a few minutes. Leza accepted the applause, one hand over her mouth and tears standing in her eyes. She'd deserved every single clap she got. Tommy Torini was beaming at the side of the stage, clapping so hard his hands looked close to disintegrating. Melissa whistled on her fingers so hard it made En wince, and even Veronica permitted herself to applaud, albeit much more modestly than the others. Ringo put his arms around Sunny and together they just looked at Watkins, smiling broadly.

Meyers just sat there, his face showing nothing but unfulfillable desire, a mix of rapture and resignation. En felt for him, but this was no time for the broken hearted.

Leza took a bow (her cleavage was so deep En thought she saw a glimpse of her belly button) and retreated from the stage, still completely bowled over by the enthusiasm.

"Okay I gotta hand it to her," Sunny said to En. "She blew the roof off."

"Yeah," En said. "She was amazing. Hey Veronica?"

"What, hun?"

"Go talk to her."

Veronica sat there a moment, still on Melissa's lap, remaining silent. If this performance hadn't softened her up, nothing would.

"Come on, do it for me?"

With a grunting sigh, Veronica got up. "_Fine_. But I'm not going to make things right. All I'm gonna to is tell her what's what."

"Good enough for me."

Melissa slapped her gently on the butt and off she went, to the artists' dressing rooms. En realized it was kinda funny that Veronica would be tolerated there as long as nobody realized she fancied the ladies. Haha, it would make for a lot of shrieking if Watkins decided to shout out Veronica's preferences.

"Y'alright, old man?" Melissa asked. Her tone was upbeat, but En could tell she was at least semi-serious.

Meyers made his scotch swirl in his glass. "Every time I think it can't get any worse, the universe pulls another fast one on me."

Tommy Torini had finished announcing the house band, and they began playing some mellow muzak in the background. "Come on," Sunny said to Ringo. "Let's get some more drinks, it's our turn."

"Hey," Garland suddenly appeared, sticking his head in between En and Melissa. "You guys staying long?"

"Staying where long?" En asked.

"Here, in Vegas."

"Oh. No, we're heading back out tomorrow."

"Ah, I see."

"Why?" En had a feeling she knew the answer to that one.

"Oh, just... no reason." And with that, and a pat on En's shoulder, he was gone again, headed for the bar.

"O... kay?"

Sunny and Ringo came back with more drinks, but not for themselves. "Hey sweetie, we're gonna go to bed if that's okay?"

"Sure, yeah. I don't want to make it too late either."

Another good intention to pave the road to Hell with.

"Ummm, come in?"

"You're dressed, right?"

"Um... yeah. Veronica, if that's you, and you're here to piss on my evening, let's just like, skip to the part where you break my face, because I'm not gonna take any more of your meanness without throwing a punch at you?"

"Yeah it's me, and I'm not here to ruin your evening."

"Why then?"

"Because we need to talk. Because your friend asked me to."

"What, Ennie?"

"Yeah. 'Ennie'."

"Okay, so like, talk?"

"... En tells me you claim to have no idea why I hate you."

"Um, yeah? I don't? I mean, we never got along, but – "

"Yeah I don't think we ever liked each other. But I'm wondering, do you have no idea why I started hating you because _you_ don't know what you've done, or because you think _I_ don't know what you've done?"

"Um, what _I've_ done?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Um, Veronica, _no_? But like, start making sense because I'm kinda running out of patience?"

"Christine and me. Ring a bell?"

"Uh... yeah?"

"You know what happened to us, right?"

"Well duh."

"Then how can you not understand why I hate you?"

"What are you talking about? How is that, like, my fault?"

"Because _you_ were the one that ratted us out!"

"..."

"Yeah. You think I didn't know? Huh?"

"I... okay, Veronica..."

"Don't start crying. Don't you _dare_."

"Veronica, I..."

"You really thought I didn't know, did you?"

"Veronica, they... They _made_ me, okay?"

"... _what_?"

"Can you... can you promise you'll give me a chance to explain?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to hear your explanation, but it better be good."

"Okay... um, they..."

"But you gotta stop this sobbing and stammering 'cause it's driving me nuts."

"I'll... try. Okay. So, Veronica... Yeah. I told them."

"I knew that already, don't act like you're confessing out of remorse."

"I'm not. Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Uh, _yeah_?"

"Elijah wouldn't tell me, but when he led me outside, Ramos did."

"Wait... _Ramos_?"

"That's right."

"That... that... that _asshole_!"

"Oh, so telling me who snitched on me and destroyed my life makes him an asshole, huh? That it?"

"_No_. Veronica... Yes, I told them, but I didn't go to them and go like, 'hey wanna hear something cool?', that's not how it went."

"How then? Stop beating around the bush, Watkins. Tell me what the _fuck_ happened!"

"Don't... don't get mad, okay? ... I was called to the Elder's office and they... they asked me if I knew anything about... you know, two members, female ones, who were like... you know."

"Yeah, and I know you did, because we noticed you when you were spying on us."

"Hey, if you don't wanna be seen, then don't like, stand around kissing in the computer room!"

"So you _told_!"

"No! ... Not at first."

"So what'd they offer you in return, huh?"

"_Nothing_."

"What did they... did they threaten you?"

"I'll tell you, just... just listen. Okay. Ramos, he... reminded me of the penalty for lying to the Elder. Then he said I needed to tell the truth not only for, like, the good of the Brotherhood, but also for my own good. He said... he said they couldn't expel you two based on camera images alone."

"Camera images? What...?"

"They needed a witness who'd seen it, like, in the flesh. Then Ramos showed it to me. The video of you two kissing. And briefly passing through the image, was like, the back of my head."

"So they'd..."

"It was Ramos, Veronica. He spies on all of us. He's probably, like, still doing it right now. Like, _all the time_. They told me I had to go on record as the official witness of uh, what'd they call it..."

"An unsanctioned and clandestine same-sex relationship between two Brotherhood members. Believe me, I know what they called it."

"Yeah, that. It was that or I'd never _ever_ get past Initiate. Veronica, please believe me, I didn't want to. We never liked each other, but I'd never – "

"You didn't want to, but you did."

"And what was I supposed to do? Huh? Refuse?"

"Yes, Leza. That's what you were supposed to do. They had nothing on us, or you. If you hadn't been so stupid – "

"I _am_ stupid, Veronica! And they _knew_ that. It's easy to look back and say, 'oh I should have like, told them to stick it up their ass', but at that moment, I couldn't think or anything?"

"God dammit, Leza..."

"I'm sorry, Veronica. You wanna hate me, fine. But I had _no choice._"

"I'd expected anything but this. I was thinking this would have ended either with you providing some magical explanation and make it all okay, or with me beating the shit out of your stupid face for confirming what I thought. But this..."

"This is how it is, Veronica."

"I mean, you didn't rat me out of your own volition, but you still told them, even if it was under pressure. And now I don't know whether I should hate you for cracking or forgive you for not wanting to tell."

"I don't know either, to be honest. But I _am_ sorry. And I do want you to stop hating me?"

"God damn it Leza..."

"We don't have to be friends, Veronica? But we should both, like, stop dragging this weight along?"

"... You're right, Leza. Fine. I... forgive you. No matter how much it hurts, I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But... there's something I need to do. I can't just let it go, I need to do something. For my own peace of mind. I'm sorry in advance, but I have to do this to put it behind me. Stand up."

"Okay, fine, whatever makes you - _Ow_, Veronica, _owwww_!"

"Sorry. I... didn't mean to hit you that hard. Don't cry, I wasn't... Leza. Stop crying. I'm sorry, but if I didn't do this, I'd never be able to let it go. Come on. It's over. We're even now."

Melissa nudged her head at the door to the dressing rooms. "Wonder how that went." Veronica came out, without any expression on her face. En and Melissa had been talking to each other, just chatting about the guys they saw at the bar and at the tables. It was so strange how things had run their course during En's journey. If someone had told her she'd be relaxing in a bar, talking about guys with the same woman she'd held a gun too and hauled around in handcuffs for days. The world was a strange and wondrous place. Maybe it was because she was getting a little buzzed from the beer, but it was.

Meyers had finished his scotch and gone to bed. Melissa had offered to walk back to the 38 with him, but he'd declined, saying he'd rather be alone. Neither Melissa nor En had insisted.

"So, how'd it go?" En asked as Veronica returned.

After taking a long swill of the beer bottle Melissa was holding, Veronica said, "It... didn't go like I thought it would."

"Oh?"

Veronica extended her hand at En. "C'mon. I'll explain."

"Uh..."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Roni?"

"I'm going to dance with your leader. C'mon, En, don't leave me hangin' here. I'm asking you to dance and you're making a fool of me."

Melissa chuckled and nudged her head in Veronica's direction. "Go on, jillaroo. She won't bite."

Whether she wanted to or not, she'd have to, because Veronica took En's hand and pulled her to her feet. Before she knew what happened, En stood on the dance floor with Veronica, pulled in intimately close. "I'll lead."

"Yeah I... hadn't expected anything else."

Veronica led the dance, they were slow, simple steps, but she slow-danced better than the two guys En had ever done it with. "You uncomfortable?"

"... a bit. Never danced with a woman before. Or this close. Or with, um..."

"A dyke?"

"Yeah."

"Well just because I'm gay doesn't mean I wanna do the dirty with every girl I see."

"No, I... suppose that's true."

The music was calming and dreamy, and En caught herself feeling more and more at ease. Veronica was a head taller than her, and apart from the boobage, it wasn't much different from dancing with a man. "So, how did it go?"

"We uh, kinda made up."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she... it wasn't as simple as I thought it was. She did cause everything, but she wasn't alone, and she didn't do so willingly."

"See? Imagine if you hadn't listened to me and just kept hating her? You'd be sitting in that chair, stewing in your own hate and the next time you met, you'd just be hurling your feces at each other again."

"Yeah, alright, alright." She sighed and then said, "Thank you, En."

"Tch, don't mention it."

"You're a nice kid, En."

"Uh... thanks? You're not gonna try and cop a feel now are you?"

Veronica snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Pft, what, you saying I'm not pretty?"

With a shrug, Veronica simply said, "You're average."

Even though En knew she hadn't said it to insult her, it still made her heart sink to be called that. "What, _really_?"

"Yah," Veronica said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "But hey, it's all personal taste. I'm just... I dunno, not attracted to some of your features."

En felt a mix of indignation and shame rise in her chest. "Some of my features? Like what?"

"Well, your retrognathic lower jaw, for instance."

"Retrowhat?"

"Your lower jaw's a bit weakly developed. Gives you a bit of a mousy look. Don't like your front teeth either."

Yeah, her front teeth, the two central incisors 'angling slightly inward' as doctor Usanagi had so kindly informed her about. But man, she was really being brutally honest. "Geez, thanks for making me feel ugly in so many specific ways."

"Hey, like I said, it's personal preference. Some people like your facial type and consider those teeth cute. And on the upside, you've got pretty eyes, a cute nose and a sweet smile. And even though you're a brat, you're _extremely_ likeable. So it evens out. You're just not my thing, that's all. Plus you're way too young for me. But hey, I'm the authority on nothing more than my own opinion."

"Yeah, whatever." But despite her embarrassment at being confronted with her own flaws, she knew she had to be a good sport about it. "But my dad can beat up your dad."

That got a smile out of Veronica. "Yeah, probably. My dad being dead and all."

If Veronica could be blunt and irreverent, then so could En. "Well, he might stink my dad to death."

"That he might."

"Come on, come on, I'm cuttin' in," Melissa broke off the conversation, "You've been hoggin' her long enough, jillaroo." She took Veronica's hand and pulled her to her. "C'mere, enough of this platonic friendship dancin'."

"Been a pleasure," Veronica singsonged, "But it seems I'm being shanghaied by a lewd bisexual."

"Uh... okay. Enjoy?"

That left En alone on the dance floor, but not for long. Before she could even take a single step back to the table, two strong arms closed around her, sweeping her up, and led her into the next dance.

"Hope you don't mind if I schedule some leader-to-leader time?"

"Well, it wouldn't matter if I did, would it?" she told Garland, grinning. She supposed there was no harm in dancing with the guy. His awkward advances were in the past, after all. Cass might have a problem, but a petty little voice inside of En told her she might as well enjoy that a little bit. He danced less slowly than Veronica, moving with confident steps that matched the new song.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to think I'm some advantage-taker or something."

"Nah, if you wanted to take advantage, you wouldn't have taken no for an answer that night."

"True, but... I feel really bad about that. Not just because I made a fool of myself, but also because you deserved better than some horny guy trying to slip it to you in the night."

"Heh, that's a nice way to put it. Thanks for the weird-ass compliment, I guess?"

"Yeah well, I guess I turn out to like you more than I'd like to. Can we pretend that never happened?"

"Gladly. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this dance?"

"No reason. Just thought, if Roni can dance with my rival, then so can I."

"Yep, sure. So what was that all about in the Ultra-Luxe?"

"Oh that!" He laughed. "Before everything turned into an epic food fight, we rescued some kid from being killed and eaten, after a lot of sterling detective work. House knew there was something fishy about that place, and turned out he was right. We managed to slip the waiters the actual beef though, so you're not cannibals. How'd your stuff go?"

"Oh good, good, we're heading out to Lake Mead tomorrow, trying to bring an old plane up from the bottom. Promises to be an adventure."

"Cool. Everyone else going too?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Once that's done, you heading back home?"

"M-hm. I think so. Sent a post card tonight, so I'll probably be home a few days after it arrives. I'll be glad to get home, but... I really don't want to say goodbye to the people I met here."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. So hey, have you thought about my offer?"

"Remind me?" Not that she needed to be reminded.

"Well... that I take that chip off your hands and trade you cash for it."

This again. Why was he so eager to get his hands on that chip? There was something he wasn't telling her, and until she knew, there was no way she'd even consider giving it to him. "My answer's still the same, Garland. Tell me what you need it for and then I'll think about it." It was strange, but being this close to him, in his arms for all intents and purposes, made it much more difficult to say no.

"I can't tell you. But you trust me, right?"

"It's not about trust. There's something you're not telling, and you won't even tell me why. I'm not giving it to you if you keep secrets."

"I can't tell you, but... it's nothing that could possibly come back on you, I swear."

"Doesn't matter. No explanation, no chip."

He let out a grunting sigh of frustration. "Alright. Fair enough. Forget I asked."

She knew he'd try again, but she'd keep rebuking him until she knew what he needed it for. That he wouldn't tell her just made it way too fishy.

"Having fun?"

Cass had suddenly appeared beside them, her hands in her sides and a storm brewing on her face.

"We're just dancing, Cass," Garland said in a bored tone. "Relax."

"Yeah, well I'm cuttin' in. Bounce, kid, you'll need to fill out in a few places before you have a chance. Come back and try again when you're actually looking like a woman."

"Cass," Garland snapped, letting En go. "Being rude to her isn't going to make us look more trustworthy."

He was right. If she'd ever be persuaded to sell him her chip, she'd have to trust the guy completely, and if his fuckbuddy kept treating her like this, there was no way she'd even consider selling. If only just to spite _her_.

"Yeah," Cass bit back. "It's always about her, about you, about that chip, but never about me, is it?"

Garland sighed in barely contained anger. "Cass, I don't feel like more drama from you tonight."

"Drama? You selfish asshole." She gave him a hard shove, then turned, stomping out of the Tops.

"Ugh, _women_."

"Uh, I have no idea what just happened."

"Doesn't matter. Thanks for the dance, kid. I'm gonna have another beer."

"Sure." This time she got to walk back to the table unaccosted, and sat down at the same time Leza emerged from the dressing rooms, dressed back into her normal attire of bluejeans and black tank top. As soon as she was visible, she was treated to cheers and congratulations from everyone that saw her. Predictably, several guys immediately walked up to her but, not so predictably, she remained reserved, politely telling them she wanted to sit down and have a drink.

"So! So!" she went at En, completely excited. "What'd you think?"

As if she didn't know that already. "As if you didn't know that already. You were amazing."

"Hee, this was _so_ much fun!"

En grinned. "Yeah, we could tell. So I heard you made up with Veronica?"

"Well, _made up_... We agreed to stop hating each other?"

Well, that was a good thing of course, but was that... "Uh, Leza? Your cheek's all red."

Watkins looked down at her boots. "Yeah, she... said she couldn't just leave it as it was, that she needed to, I don't know. Slap me one for her peace of mind?"

En felt her eyebrows contract into a frown. "I asked her to talk to you, not give you a beating."

Watkins immediately motioned her to keep calm. "It's okay. We're done being bitches and that's all that matters?"

"I suppose. So hey, 'Leza Lorelai'?" The stage name had sounded kinda ridiculous.

"I know, right?" Leza said, embarrassed. Tommy said it'd sound good. In his words, 'better than boring old Watkins', heh."

"Think you'll make a carreer out of this?"

She snorted, "Hah, no. I mean, I'm not saying I'd never do it again, but this was like, a lot of fun? Wouldn't wanna turn it into _work_."

It was then En noticed Garland coming at them. She already knew what he was here for. "Oh dear, here he comes."

"Mm?"

And yep, as En had expected, he came to stand at their table, held out his hand and said, "En, is it okay if I ask the lovely Leza if I can steal her for a while?"

She wasn't completely comfortable with the idea, but it wasn't like it was her place to refuse. "I'm not her boss, Garland."

"Appreciate it. Miss Leza, can I steal you for a while?"

"Ooh, for a dance?" Leza went back to giddy schoolgirl mode, promptly erasing all vestiges of the singing diva that had stood on the stage no longer than half an hour ago. She took Garland's hand and allowed him to help her up. "Gladly."

Oh man. Leza was a big girl, and En knew she had to respect that, but it was pretty clear the guy hadn't asked her for just a dance, as he'd done with En. Nope, he had other goals in mind. That didn't bother En much, if Watkins felt like adding a new STD to her tally every night, that was her problem, but it might complicate things. She considered Garland a pretty decent sort, but she was also convinced he was a guy who recognized leverage when he saw it. And for whatever reason, he still had his mind set on the platinum chip. He backed off every time she said no, but never for long.

"Hello, mind if I bother you for a second?"

"Mm?"

The man that had come to sit next to her was the one with the blonde curls and the heavy-rimmed glasses, Arcade... something. Gannon, that was it. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your train of thought," he apologized with a friendly smile. "I'd like to have a word though, if you don't mind?"

"What, not going to ask me to dance? Everyone else in your group does," she asked with a grin.

"Haha, heavens, no, though through no fault of your own. I'm not much of a dancer, I'm afraid. Qui licet Iovi, non licet bovi."

Wait what? Did this guy just speak Latin?

"No need to be alarmed. Not only Caesar's despicable bunch speak Cicero's language. Some of us taught it to themselves in the good old fashioned way. The classical age was fascinating, shame those Legion dungheads only adopted the worst aspects the era had to offer."

"Ugh, yeah, don't get me started on history. My parents were historians. It's fascinating and all, but too much is too much. So, you wanted to talk to me about something?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "Yes, I did. About Cass."

"Ugh. What about her?"

"I couldn't help but notice the exchange between you three just now. And as I understand it, she hasn't exactly shown her best side to you until now."

En snorted, taking another swill of beer, and noticed she was starting to go from buzzed to tipsy. "You can say that again."

"I know this may be hard to believe, but she's really not a bad person."

"Never said she was. But she keeps being a bitch to me, so yeah, doesn't make me terribly motivated to be nice to her."

"Of course not, but it's... not entirely her fault."

"How's that?" Her beer was empty so she just took Melissa's. It was just standing there, getting warm anyway. She had no idea where Melissa was, but Veronica stood at the bar, talking to the man in the disco suit and pompadour hairstyle.

"Well, Garland isn't exactly making it easy on her."

"I don't picture her as someone who makes things very easy for a man either."

He chuckled at that. "No, you're right about that. But I think that without realizing, he's got her caught in an attraction-repulsion game, pushing her away when he's surrounded by people and then letting her come closer again when he's in need of company. He knows how charismatic and attractive he is, and he exploits it to the fullest. Probably without realizing it fully, but still."

If that was true, it'd shed a different light on her behaviour.

He sighed, taking a drink of his glass of red wine. "I think she's madly in love with him, and because he keeps sending her mixed signals, she's caught, unable to indulge in the feeling and unable to move on, stuck in between the two."

"Not saying I'm doubting you, but she doesn't seem like the type to be so dependent. She comes across as someone who knows what she wants and doesn't take any bullshit."

"She does. But masks and walls are powerful defences. She's very vulnerable underneath that tough exterior." He took another sip. "And to be honest, I think if someone you have feelings for continually puts you on the wrong foot, you don't have to be very unstable to start, as Garland himself would say it, 'losing your shit'."

En had to admit she hadn't thought of it that way. And maybe it was the beer going a bit to her head, but sometimes she wondered if she wasn't in the same situation with Christopher. When there was no one around, he gave her attention and sent her signals, subtle ones, but she could pick them up alright. But then when there were other people, especially other girls, he didn't give her a second look. Was he maybe doing a more harmless version to her of what Garland was supposedly doing to Cass? She'd have to keep an eye out when she got home. Because sometimes he did make her feel confused and unstable.

"You alright there?"

"Mm? Oh, yeah, sorry, was just thinking. To be honest, I hadn't looked at it from that side yet. I guess getting a mixed message all the time must make it hard to stay reasonable."

He nodded, finishing his glass. "Indeed. I'm not defending her or anything, but she's a good person at heart, and I'd just consider it a shame if you, who seem like a good person at heart as well, were to have the wrong idea of her. As for Garland..." He nudged his head at the dance floor. "Quod erat demonstrandum."

She followed his gaze and god dammit, say it wasn't true. Garland and Leza stood on the dance floor, tongue-kissing, one of his hands, with no shame whatsoever, firmly grabbing her breast. "Ugh, seriously?"

"See, this is what I mean when I say he keeps knocking her from side to side. He flirts and even sleeps with other women, but he still keeps Cass around as a plan B."

Damn. She liked the guy, well, found him tolerable, but this was pretty disgusting. "What, he actually lies to her? Tells her he loves her and stuff?"

"No, no," Arcade said quickly. "That would be absolutely filthy. He's not evil, just... selfish, I suppose. Part of him knows that Cass is wishfully thinking he loves her, and while he doesn't really feed those thoughts, not explicitly at least, he does allow her to have her illusions. In a sort of 'it's not lying if I don't correct her when she has the wrong idea'. See what I mean?"

"Yeah." Then En said something she never thought would cross her lips. "Poor Cass."

"It doesn't excuse her behaviour, but," he turned back to her. "I do hope you understand her a bit better now."

She nodded, and was sincere when she said, "I do. Thanks for telling me this."

"It was my pleasure. Cass deserves better."

En could help but agree with him as she watched Garland and Leza leave together, his hand on her ass. "I'm going to go unload all this beer. Be right back."

"I think I'm going to go for a little walk. Been good talking to you."

Her beer finished and partly peed out, she got up and walked to the exit, more or less straight. She was on the border between tipsy and drunk, so it was time to head to bed, to avoid a hangover in the morning. There wasn't anyone left of the people she knew anyway. Both Veronica and Arcade seemed to have called it a night too.

Yep, time to head on back.

She went down the stairs, through the casino floor, and out the lobby desk. Swank still stood there, and he sent her off with a friendly, "Get home safe, miss."

"I will, thanks."

The air had gotten a lot colder, and she pulled her jacket closed around her. It was only a little walk, so she'd just have to endure the cold on her bare legs. The cold air did have the benefit of clearing her head a little, chasing most of the drunkenness away. The streets were almost empty. Most people had hit the rack already, and those that hadn't would probably stay in the bars and casinos until closing time. It was nice to have the street mostly to herself though. Man, she looked forward to her bed.

The Lucky 38's casino floor wasn't deserted as she thought it would be. Slumped on one of the chairs in a booth lay Cass, her straw hat pulled down over her eyes and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of her. En didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or despise her.

She settled for ignoring her.

The elevator stopped at the suite floor, and En trudged down the dimly-lit hallway, checking her Pip-boy to see it was past two already.

Ah, there was her room. But as her fingers closed around the door knob, she saw the Do Not Disturb tag hanging from it.

Oh this wasn't fucking true.

Checking under the door, she saw there was still light in there.

_Of all the..._ God dammit _Leza_! Instead of dragging Garland into _his_ room so at least En could fucking _sleep_, she'd decided, for _fuck knew what reason_, to choose _their_ room as the place of business. En felt anger rising up inside her, and clenching her teeth, she lifted her fists at the door, but managed to stop herself from banging on it in pure rage.

Sleeping with Sunny and Ringo wouldn't be possible, Melissa and Meyers were probably fast asleep already, and she'd bet Garland had the key to _his_ room in there with him.

Fuck it. _Leza_, she thought to herself, _you have half an hour. If you're not done by then, I'm dragging you both out of there so you can sleep in the damn hallway_. _And you're changing the god damn sheets or I'm wrapping you in them and setting you on fire._

Her fists clenched in barely contained fury, she took the elevator back down to the casino floor, grabbed a coke from the fridges, and sat down at the bar. She took a few drinks, just sitting there and cooling off, and before long, Melissa came down too.

"Can't sleep?" En asked flatly.

"Can say that again. Thanks for picking the room adjacent to ours. Did you know the walls are really thin here?"

"They're letting you enjoy along with them, are they?"

Melissa let out a grunt, uncapping a beer. "Yeah. Comin' down out of pure misery. You can only take so much of," she imitated Leza's nasal voice, "'oh god yeah split me in two baby!', an', 'Tell me I'm an ugly fat pig! Oh yeah! Stick me like an ugly fat pig!'."

What the Hell did people say to each other during sex?! "Seriously? Does everyone suddenly go _insane_ when they start having sex?"

"No, no," Melissa said calmly. "I think that's just her. Being turned on by getting called a fat ugly pig, s'pose it's a novelty."

"Man, and you people wonder why I'm not interested in sex."

"Like I said, it's just _some_ people."

"Mm." The she realized something. "Meyers didn't hear them go at it, did he?"

"No, no," Melissa said quickly. "He's fast asleep, thank god for that." Melissa put her beer down and got up, a hand on her belly. "Gonna hook myself up to the sewer for a sec. Think I had a bit too much of that beef."

"Enjoy."

"I don't think it'll be very enjoyable, but thanks."

As Melissa trudged off to the toilet, En turned to look at Cass. Why was she down here? Did she know where Garland was, and what he was doing? Had she decided to drink herself into oblivion because of it? She recalled what Arcade had said, and even though she'd never thought it was possible, her heart ached when she saw the woman, drunk off her feet out of pure misery. It must not be easy to be constantly played around.

She kneeled down in front of her, took her hat off and brushed the stray locks of red hair away from her face. "Cass?"

Her only response was an unfriendly grunt.

"Cass, hey."

She gave her shoulder a little shake, and that woke her up. "Ugh, you. What do you want?"

"Just... checking to see if you're alright."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. All things considered." She blinked, then gave En a good look. "But... the Hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Me? Just... having a drink before going to bed." She thought it'd be best to stay quiet about the reason she couldn't go into her room.

"He's still in there with her, isn't he?"

Crap. She knew. "Um..."

"It's cool, no need to lie," Cass said wearily. She actually looked far less drunk than En had thought when she'd seen her slumped on her chair. "Some people outside saw them go in together. Guess I'm glad it's not you, at least."

"Um... okay?"

"Anyway, I'm fine. For a stupid bitch anyway." She stared at the bottle of whiskey, then put it to her mouth and drank a big gulp. "And even with everything I know about him, I just can't stop loving the rotten bastard."

"I'm sorry, Cass." She meant it.

Cass stood up and smiled weakly at En. "Thanks, kid. But I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, it's – "

Cass gently took hold of En's shoulders. "It's alright. I only have myself to blame. Guess I'm just lonely, huh?"

En didn't really know what to say to that.

Cass' right hand slowly went up to the scar on En's head. "They got you good, didn't they?"

When her fingertips touched the scar, En involuntarily pulled her head away. She hated the ugly tear on her head enough as it was, and someone actually touching it just made her feel even worse, especially this woman.

"Don't be shy." Cass brought her face closer to En, her clear blue eyes looking intently into hers. "It's just a scar."

En pulled back as the other woman's face came closer. What was she doing? "Cass, um, I don't know what you're – "

"Shh. I've been nasty to you, let me make up for it."

"Uhh, just shaking my hand would be fine, Cass, I – "

But Cass wouldn't settle for a handshake. Before En realized what happened, Cass advanced on her, pushing her backwards, gently but firmly. "I know my way around a woman too, you know."

Was this woman seriously coming onto her? "No, Cass, seriously, I'm not – "

"Come on," Cass said in a sultry grunt, and her hands slid down En's shoulders and around her waist. En backed away but felt her butt bump against one of the slot machines. "Give yourself to me."

"Cass, _no_," En protested again, but the woman wouldn't listen.

Pressing herself against En, Cass let her hands go up and down her back even as En struggled. They felt less like trying to caress her, and more like they were trying to feel up as much of her as possible, but skipping intimate spots. The smell of whiskey hung heavily on her breath. En tried to push her away, but Cass didn't budge.

"Cass, get off me, I'm serious!"

When Cass tried to kiss the side of En's neck, she'd had enough, giving her a hard shove. "Cass, I fucking said _no_!"

Cass was undeterred, coming closer again and grabbing hold of En, her hands again sliding under her jacket. "When a girl says no, she really means yes," she breathed in En's ear, letting her hands slide across her belly, ignoring En's struggles.

What the...

It was almost imperceptible, but En had felt it regardless.

Grabbing hold of Cass' wrist, she pulled it up, the index and middle finger holding the platinum chip wedged in between them.

"You sneaky bitch!", En snarled, snatching the chip out from between Cass' fingers and giving her another hard shove, this one pushing her back several steps. "That why you got so cute, huh?' En shouted. "So you could steal _this_?"

Cass dropped the seductive façade, her eyes pleading. "I'm sorry, kid, but I just... I really need this."

"Why? Why do all you people need that god damn chip?"

"I don't know," Cass called out, "but I know _he_ needs it, and if I could get it for him, then maybe he might just..."

"Might just what? Fall in love with you? Are you _that_ naïve?"

"I don't know, kid, but I've got to try." She held out her hand, and begged, "En. Can I please have it? I promise I'll find some way to repay you, I just need – "

"Tell me what you need it for, dammit!"

"I _don't know_! He doesn't want to tell me." She looked completely desperate. "But I know it's nothing that could possibly affect you. He needs it for something that doesn't concern you."

"I'm sure it doesn't concern you either," En said flatly. It was hard, but after trying to steal her chip, this woman didn't deserve a lot of tact.

"Just... give it to me? Please?"

"No, Cass. That chip stays with me."

"Do I have to get on my knees?" Cass wailed, tears brimming in her eyes. "Is that what you want?"

"No, Cass. I don't want anything. I'm not giving you my chip. It's that simple."

Cass' appearance shifted again. In a second, she went from pleading to aggressive, her upper lip curling back and her eyes flashing. "You know, nobody's here except us. What's stopping me from just taking it from you?"

"I am," En said, sounding calm even as her heartbeat sped up and her mouth went dry. If this woman, even drunk as she was, decided to come at her, En wouldn't stand much of a chance.

"I need that chip, kid," Cass growled. "If you won't give it to me, then I'll take it from you." She advanced on En, her hands balled into fists. "I don't want to do this, but you're not leaving me any choice."

"C-Cass," En stammered, no longer able to hide the fear. She backed away but bumped into the slot machine again. "G-get back, you don't want to do this." First she'd been afraid to be raped, now she had to fear being beaten and kicked into giving up her chip. She wanted to stand up to the other woman, to fight back and at least get some punches in of her own, but all she could do was bring her hands up in a defensive posture and stutter, "Y-you think he'll still – "

But for Cass, the time for talking was over. "Give it to me," she snarled, bringing up her fists and immediately delivering a short, sharp jab that glanced off En's shoulder.

En instinctively flinched, bringing her hands up higher. "Cass, _stop_!"

"Give it to me and I will!"

The next punch was a hard right hook, and as En clumsily tried to pull her head away, Cass' fist, with the force of a sledgehammer, smacked into En's left temple, right on the place Benny's bullet had destroyed part of her skull.

The pain was obliterating. En's ears instantly began to shriek and her knees buckled while pain so intense it made her head feel like it exploded, went like a lightning bolt through her skull. Her vision went black and brightly coloured stars flashed before her eyes.

She felt herself go down, clutching her head. There was nothing but pain, and she with no control over herself, she fell to her side, kicking her feet and hearing herself wail, "OWWW! OWWW! AAAHHHAAHHAHHOWWWWW!" Her lungs sucked in air and she screamed again, "OWWW! OWWW! AAHAAHOWWW!"

She felt tears run down her cheeks, her feet kicking out, cutting the air but sometimes bashing into something solid. She kept screaming, holding her head, her back bucking.

"Oh Jesus..." came a panicked voice above her. "Oh god I didn't mean to..."

"AAHHH AHHHOWWOWWW!"

"Kid please, get up, I'm _sorry_, I didn't mean to – "

"What the _fuck_ is goin' on here?"

"Oh fuck, where did _you_ come from? Look, I didn't mean to – "

"AHH AAAHHH OWWWW OWWWW!"

"What have you done?"

"I – "

"You mongrel, _what have you done_?"

"It wasn't supposed to – "

"Get the _fuck_ out of my way! En? En, can you hear me?"

En faintly recognized Melissa's voice, but she could only go on wailing.

"I... I'll go get Arcade, he... he's a doctor."

"You _do that_, you fucking cunt! Do that and then get your rotten ass back here so I can beat you to death! En? En, talk to me. En."

The pain was still crushing, but En managed to reduce the wailing to a wheezy, inarticulate noise.

"Keep breathin', jill. Come on. Keep breathin'. Concentrate on my voice."

It helped somewhat. Focusing on Melissa's voice, the pain relented ever so slighty, enough so she could actually identify it. It was a smashing, pounding pain in the left side of her head, sending jolts through her skull, stabbing through her eye.

"That's it. Easy now." She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Keep breathin'."

Getting her breathing somewhat under control worked too, making the pain lessen so she regained some sort of control over her body and mind. Bright white flashes pulsed before her left eye, in rhythm with the pounding pain, and the beating of her heart.

"What happened? Talk to me, jill, what happened?"

But En couldn't talk. Not now. Even as she got some semblance of control over her body, she knew she was about to lose it again as fireflies zipped in front of her vision and the seizures, that she thought were finally over, took over her body again. She felt her legs resume their kicking, and the shrieking in her ears drowned out Melissa's voice. Far away, she heard herself growl in pain, but she didn't feel any of it, the seizure drowning out all sensation.

And abruptly, it was over again and the pain returned in all its pounding, blinding, paralyzing fury. And somewhere in that blasting, crushing maelstrom of agony, was Melissa's hand on her shoulder, a small jutting rock in the thrashing whitewater, a single handhold in that whipping tornado of pain.

"En. En, it was a seizure, but you're back now. Let's do this again. Concentrate on my voice. Keep breathin'." She felt the back of a hand wiping her chin.

En again tried to do as she was told, gradually regaining control over her body, even as the pain kept pounding away at her, trying to beat her into giving up control again and going back to wailing and kicking. Her eyes were still screwed shut, and the white flashes were still zapping across her vision.

"En. Open your eyes. Look at me."

She couldn't.

"Come on, jill. You can do it. Look at my ugly face."

She managed to open her right eye slightly, the light flooding in and stabbing right into her brain. Her eyelid promptly closed again.

"That's good, come on. Try again."

This time she managed to get her right eye half open, the left still screwed shut. Melissa sat kneeling over her, her face concerned.

"Alright, there ya go. C'mon, you're doin' great. Say somethin', yeah?"

She tried, but only inarticulate mewling came out.

"Well, it's not much, but it's a start. Come on, again, let me know you haven't gone full retard."

"Th... th..."

"C'mon."

"Tha... that w... was... I've never felt... pain like this..."

"No, bet you haven't."

"Feels like... jagged sh... shards of sku... hull stab... bing into m... my brain."

"C'mon," Melissa grunted, taking hold of En's shoulders. "Let's sit you up straight, yeah?"

"Don't," an urgent male voice came from far away. "Leave her lying down, please."

Melissa's head turned towards the voice. "Oh you. You a doctor, are ya?"

"Yes I am. Let me take a look." Arcade Gannon knelt by her and gently rolled her from her side to her back.

"You. Get out. _Right_ now," En heard Melissa threaten. Even to En's numb mind, it was clear who she was talking to.

"Alright, miss," Arcade said, his head spinning along with the rest of her vision. "What happened."

"Bl... blow to the..." She managed to feebly lift her arm and point at her temple. After doing what it had to do, it fell back down, powerless.

Gannon's face promptly scrunched up. "That must have hurt like Hell."

"Yuh... yeah."

Melissa's face appeared beside Arcade's. "What's with her eye?"

There was something with her eye? What? Was it damaged? Crushed? What? _Don't be silly_ _if your eye was crushed you wouldn't be able to see._ But maybe she was seeing with only one eye? Oh God what was with her eye?

Arcade inspected it, his face intent, but then said, "Nothing too alarming. Just a haemorrhage. Looks much nastier than it is. I'm mostly worried about the integrity of that bone sawing job. Clearly done by a dabbler."

"... Looks fine though, doesn't it?" Melissa asked. En had lost all her strength and was only able to endure the situation, too numb to even speak. "Bit dented though."

"Miss," Arcade said, getting frustrated with Melissa's badgering. "This is harrowing enough for her as it is, without you making amateur observations and scaring her even more."

"Right," Melissa said, not taking any offense. "I'll shut up."

"Good. I understand you're worried but this will go far better if I can concentrate and she's not needlessly disquieted." He looked back at En, his fingers gently feeling at the scar on her head.

After what seemed like an eternity, he sat upright and told Melissa, "Doesn't seem to be any _real_ damage. But well..." He turned back to En, "We won't know for sure until tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?" Melissa inquired, asking the question En wanted to ask as well.

"The first twenty-four hours are critical when it comes to... well, brain haemorrhages. If some of that jury-rigged skull patch-up job got dented inward or knocked loose, there's a serious chance of intra-cranial bleeding." He paused. "That would be bad."

"So there's no way to know?"

"Not really, except waiting for twenty-four hours." He turned back to En. "Can you walk, young lady?"

"... En. And... yeah, I... I think so." She didn't think so at all.

"Yeah, bollocks to that," Melissa said, promptly sliding her arms under En's shoulders and knees and lifting her up with a modest grunt. "C'mon, off to bed with you."

"Nuh... not m... my bed," En breathed.

"Oh. Right, those two are still in there. Can we get her a painkiller or something?"

"No. Under no condition, no matter how much I'd like to. Put her in Veronica's bed," Arcade said. "I'd rather keep her in my room so I can immediately take action if there are complications."

"B... but V... Veronica?"

"Veronica can sleep somewhere else, she'll be alright."

"Unless you'd like me to tuck you in with her?" Melissa asked, looking down on En with a grin.

"N... no th... thanks. I'm... only... average any... way."

"Uhhh, okay?" Figured she'd have no idea what that was about.

Arcade went on ahead, stomping into the room he shared with Veronica. "Veronica. _Veronica!_"

Her grin widening, Melissa confided to En, "She's even more difficult to get out of bed than Sunny." Who'd ever thought in the beginning that Melissa would be the one to always make her feel that everything was going to be alright?

"Veronica, sorry about this, but we need your bed." Arcade waited for a response, then said, "Yes I _know_ what time it is. Medical emergency."

Another silence as Melissa stood waiting in the hallway with En in her arms.

"No, it's nothing life-threatening, but I need to keep someone under observation."

Silence. En tried to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids were leaden.

"I don't know, sleep in Garland's bed, the manslut won't be using it anyway tonight." Another silence. "_Yes_, I know. But I don't think sleeping is the first thing on Cass' mind right now."

There was another silence, followed by stumbling noises. A few seconds later, Veronica emerged from the doorway, sleep-drunk and wrapped in a bathrobe, squinting against the light even as the hood of the robe hung low over her face. "Whoever it is, he owes me a crate of beer." Then she saw Melissa standing with her human cargo. "Aw, geez, what happened?"

"She got a... bump, or something, on her temple," Arcade explained. "Not sure what happened. I'm worried about a brain haemorrhage so I need to keep her under observation."

"Crap, that sucks. You okay there?"

"She'll be alright," Melissa answered in her stead. "Just a little indisposed right now." With that, she carried En inside (her head hurt more every time Melissa changed direction) and gently put her on the bed.

"I hope I didn't fart in it too much in my sleep," Veronica imparted, matter-of-factly wiping En's chin with the cuff of her sleeve.

"No need to be so vulgar. And I'm pretty sure she won't mind right now," Arcade said. "Alright, uh, Melissa, was it?"

"Mm."

"Can I get some help undressing her?" Wait, what? No undressing. No undressing! En tried to protest but her mouth couldn't form any words.

"Ohwww," Melissa said doubtfully. "Pretty sure she won't have any of that."

Damn right she wouldn't have any of that!

"Ma'am," Arcade said. En could barely make him out, standing up with his hands in his sides. "You're a woman. And I'm a doctor. _And_ homosexual. I'm sure she won't mind."

"I... d..." En managed to slur. "N... o... und... ress..."

"See?" Melissa said, smug with herself. "Told ya."

"Fine, _fine_," Arcade conceded. "Sleep in your clothes then."

"Y... yes, sl... eep in cl..."

"Alright, alright, shush," Arcade silenced her. "You need to close your eyes and rest. I'll stay awake for an hour or so, see if you're doing okay, that work for you?"

"Y... yes... th..."

"That's quite alright."

"Can I stay too?"

En's eyes had inexorably closed and she could only hear the voices, far away.

"I think it's better if you don't. I know you're worried but we can't do anything more at the moment."

"I _am _worried. I feel... kinda responsible."

"Why on Earth would you feel responsible? It's not like you did it to her? What the Hell happened anyway?"

"I'm not sure. I think Cass... I don't know, pushed her or hit her, right in the..."

"I sure hope it was an accident."

"I hope so too, for _her_ sake."

"Anyway, there's no need for you to feel responsible."

"Oh there is, mate. There is."

"It's perfectly normal to feel like you should have prevented it, or that you should have been there to protect her, but those feelings are – "

"It's not about that, yeah? Just believe me when I say I feel responsible and I have a damn good reason for that!"

"No need to get upset. I believe you. But be that as it may, there's nothing you can do here. Tempus concilium donat."

"I've got no idea what you just said, but that sounded like Legion talk."

"Not _everyone_ who speaks Latin is part of that band of barbarians."

"I'd... really like to stay." En felt herself falling away into a pained sleep.

"Fine. _Fine._ Sleep on the sofa then. But if you stay, you're staying to help, understood."

"Sure. What do we do when she gets a brain haemorrhage-thingy?" En tried to stay awake, tried to listen to what had to be done.

"That you call it a 'brain haemorrhage-thingy' worries me... But very well. When there is intra-cranial bleeding, we have to get the pressure off."

"How would we do that?" Sleep washed over En again and she was unable to hold it off, feeling herself sinking into a painful inky black absence.

"Without an operating theatre?" Sleep took her as she heard the last word. "Trepanate."


	59. No Way To Live

**FIFTY-NINE**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 17****th**

**?**

She was used to waking up with a headache, even Usawhatsherface's meds hadn't been able to eliminate it entirely, but this one felt just like back then, when she woke up on the hospital bed in doctor... shit, what was his name again. Oh crap she hadn't lost any of her memory had she? Mitchell! That was it. Phew.

But oh man, that headache. Why did it pound so hard? She remembered last night, Watkins singing like a nymphomanic nightingale, dancing with... a few people... having a bit much to drink. Hm, it couldn't be a hangover could it? No, no way.

She'd had a bit much to drink and gone back to the Lucky 38. She'd gone up to her room, but... Watkins... right, she'd been doing the nasty with Garland. Garland who didn't mind cheating on Cass whenever he –

Aw, shit, Cass. Cass had clocked her in the side of the head. Oh man, that's right. That blow had made her skull feel like it caved in and she'd gone down, screaming like a retard. And the whole seizure business had followed after. Melissa had carried her up. Put her in bed.

Which bed again? Oh, right. That Arcade Gannon guy. She was in the room he shared with Veronica. Well, not at the moment. He was sharing it with En for a bit. What time was it?

She figured it'd help if she opened her eyes. Yep, that'd be a good idea.

Carefully, she let her eyelids open to slits. There wasn't too much light in the room, so it was manageable to open them further, with only a small increase in the skull-pounding pain as the price to pay for it.

The suites didn't have windows (who the Hell had designed this building?) so she had no idea of knowing what time it was. But there, on the ground, lay her Pip-boy, giving off its soft amber light. Biting the bonking pain in her head, she reached down and picked it up, holding it up to her eyes. Dang, it was past two in the afternoon already. She'd slept like a log. Well, 'slept'...

The toilet in the adjacent bathroom flushed, and as Melissa came back into the room, light from the bathroom stabbed En in the eyes so hard it felt like two railroad spikes being rammed into her skull. She yelped and covered her eyes with her hand.

"Erp, sorry. Didn't know you were awake. Y'alright?" Melissa asked.

"Considering I just got a haymaker on a patched-up bullet-wound, I can't complain," En croaked.

"Heh, yeah. I'll go get Arcade, sit tight, yeah?"

"Don't think I can do anything _but_ sit tight."

"Good."

It only took a minute before the blond-haired man marched into the room. "Hey there. I'll need to turn on a light or two, that okay?"

"Sure, I'll have to face it sooner or later anyway."

"Indeed." He clicked on the lights, making En reflexively screw her eyes shut. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts like there's a horse kicking it. Bit nauseous too."

"Mm. All to be expected. Let's take a look at that eye of yours."

Oh shit, right, there was something with her eye. Melissa had noticed it and asked what it was but Arcade hadn't replied. En's throat clenched as Arcade lifted her left eyelid with his thumb. The light flooding in made her want to close it again, but he held it open. "Mmm..."

God dammit. "You were all worried about it last night and you still haven't told me what it's about. Can you _please_ tell me what's wrong with my eye?"

He let go of her eyelid. "Not too much, thankfully. Looks like a harmless haemorrhage."

"Sure?"

"I think so, yes. It looks far more scary than it is. Hold on." He went to the bathroom and came back with Veronica's hand mirror. "Take a look."

En took the mirror and looked. Damn. Arcade had been right about one thing: it looked scary as Hell. Half the sclera of her left eye, the side closest to the wound, was completely red, making the light brown of the iris look like a chunk of poop in a dysentery sauce.

"Like I said, it's not as frightful as it looks. Probably just a local bleeding from a torn blood vessel."

"It sure _looks_ brutal enough."

"Well, it'll impress the boys at least."

En had to chuckle at that. "The ones who don't run off screaming at least. Will it go away?"

"Should, yeah. Might take a while without meds though. I prefer not to give you any, because I'm still worried about intra-cranial haemorrhaging." She was getting more used to the light and could keep her eyes half-open already.

"Not even a painkiller?"

"_Especially_ not a painkiller. Sorry."

"Meanie."

"I know. So what about the rest? Memory? Motor functions?"

"Think those are a-okay. Managed to scoop up my Pip-boy, and I remember most of what happened yesterday. Should be alright, no?"

"Definitely. You remember how you got here in the first place?"

"Yeah. Cass decked me."

"Indeed. On that note, there's someone who wants to talk to you."

Ugh, great. "It who I think it is?"

"Unless you think it's anyone other than Cass, yes."

"Man." En rolled her eyes, immediately realizing what a bad idea that was when they hurt as if someone had stepped on them. "Fine, I guess."

Arcade nodded and stood up. "She's been waiting outside for hours already."

"How contrite of her."

"Give her a chance to apologize at least."

"Yeah, yeah."

With that, Arcade opened the door. Cass' silhouette was starkly drawn against the lights in the hallway. Including her taco-shaped hat. She briefly let her eyes fall closed again to grant them some respite from the light and heard Arcade say, "Not too long, and on your best behaviour, understood?"

Cass didn't answer, coming in slowly and with dragging feet. "Hey."

"You're sorry, let's forgive and forget, that what you're gonna say?" En grunted at her.

Cass permitted herself to sit down at her bedside. "It's... part of it." At least she sounded sober. "Well, I probably can't expect 'forgive and forget', but I got the I'm sorry-part pretty worked out?"

"Fine. Let's hear it."

She took a deep breath and then said, looking at her hands, her elbows on her knees. "En, I'm sorry I hit you. I wish I could undo it or take it back, but I can't. I feel horrible about this, and I mean it."

She sounded sincere enough. No drunken slur, no venomous undertones, no intimidating or dismissive tone. En felt like it was the first time she saw the actual, genuine Cass. And even though she wanted to stay mad at her, and tell Melissa to put a dent in her stupid freckled face, she realized she'd have to be the 'bigger person' and act as if she accepted the apology. "Yeah, well. We all do things we regret afterward, I suppose."

"Even though I was drunk, I _really_ didn't mean to hit you... well, _there_."

"Ew, you make it sound like you hit me somewhere dirty."

"No, no. I mean... your injury. You just... suddenly leaned into it and I couldn't – "

"Are you apologizing for hitting me or for not aiming right?"

"For hitting you. And for..." she bit her lower lip and looked away. "... trying to manipulate you."

Hah! She'd never heard it being called that before. No, no, if she was going to apologize, she was going to drink the cup to the bottom. "Manipulate me, how?"

Cass sighed and lowered her head, looking at the floor between her feet. "For trying to seduce you. If it helps, I know I made a total fool of myself and I feel like an absolute loser now. That better?"

"Yes." Now she supposed she had to do her part too. "It's okay, Cass. Let's just... call it some bad decisions made by someone who was confused, and leave it at that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I can't promise I won't rub it in your face from time to time, 'cause I'm like that, but yeah. It's cool. I need you to promise me one thing, though?"

"Mm?"

"Don't _ever_ try to steal my chip again."

She spread her hands. "No. No, I said I've been stupid and I mean it. I won't try anything, promised."

"From what I hear about you, though, it's not like you to act so stupid over a guy?"

"Tell me about it. I'm usually all about, you know, no strings attached kinda stuff, but I don't know... he's got this _effect_ on me, you know?"

She understood what Cass meant. Even though she didn't feel it herself, she could perfectly understand why other women did. And Cass was the proof. So was Leza, come to think of it, though En imagined Leza was quite a bit easier to have effect on. _Quite_ a bit.

"I know he cheats on me," Cass suddenly, abruptly said, then feel silent.

En figured she was waiting for a reply. "I... don't think he sees your relationship the same way you do, no."

Her eyes flashed. "That blonde slut you travel with. He was with her last night, wasn't he?"

En sighed. What did she want her to say? To lie so they could both pretend it wasn't true? "Yes, Cass. He was fucking her last night." There. Nice and blunt.

She gnawed at her lip and looked away. "Answer me honestly. When you were out doing fuck-knows-what, did you... did you sleep with him?"

"Yes, Cass," En said sharply.

The mixture of anger and sadness on Cass' face become even more apparent.

"I slept with him, Cass. And that's _all_. We _slept_."

"Wait, so..."

"We _slept_. We didn't have sex, we didn't fondle each other, we didn't even hold hands or give each other a peck goodnight on the cheek." Indignant, she added, "I'm not Leza. I don't just give my body away to anyone who wants it." She didn't mention Garland's advances back there. There was no point and it'd only upset Cass more. But had she come to apologize or to throw a pity party? It might set Cass more at ease if she knew that one thing En didn't really want to shout from the rooftops. "Listen, and keep this to yourself."

"You're a lesbian?"

"Dammit, _no_. And if you dare suggest I'm secretly a boy you'll be the one needing a hospital bed!"

Cass managed to see the humour in it. "Okay, sorry. I promise, I won't tell."

"Garland wouldn't have stood a chance with me even if he had tried something." Which he had. "I'm pretty sure I'm asexual."

Cass blinked. "Asexual as in 'not interested', or as in 'incapable'?"

En gave her a look of weary irritation. "Not interested. I'm perfectly capable." Well, she was _now_. A week or two ago, not so much. "So I'm the last person you need to worry about."

She sighed. "That's... a relief."

"Glad you think so."

"No, that's... not what I meant. I'd just like to put this behind us, and not having to worry about that will help."

"Yes, well. There you go."

"So you've never...?"

"Don't push my openheartedness."

"Right, sorry." Cass looked in En's eyes and said, completely sincerely, "En, I'm sorry. About everything. I kept thinking of you as a stupid brat and treating you that way too, and you're shaming me by treating me so kindly."

"Glad to hear it." She was. She had to bite her tongue not to gloat or rub it in, but she managed to keep the snooty remarks in.

"Is there _anything_ I can do for you?"

"Nah I'm good. Should be heading out soon though. We still need to get to Lake Mead to get that... well, to do our job." But then she thought of something. "You know what you can do for me?"

"Mm?"

"Stop drinking yourself to death. You're much easier to stomach when you're sober."

She smiled weakly. "You're right. I drink too much. I just... it helps me to deal with things, you know?"

"It doesn't help you do anything. Just makes things worse."

She nodded. "I'll drink less. Not gonna quit altogether, but drink less. And I won't touch another drop until you're back on your feet and we can have our first drink together."

"Heh, cool."

Cass stood up, took off her hat and laid her free hand on En's shoulder. "Thank you, En. I mean it. I've been an asshole, but no longer."

"Good, because I don't feel like getting my shoulder rubbed by an asshole."

She chuckled. "If there's anything I can do for you guys, let me know, 'kay?"

"Will do. And uh, if you see Leza, remember she's my friend, and you don't have permission to beat up my friends, okay?"

Cass' face hardened. "Honestly? I want to kick that blonde whore right in her flaccid cunt."

"But you won't. Because I asked you to. You've used up all your violence vouchers on me, remember?" Great. She'd just managed to get Leza to patch things up with Veronica, and there came Cass to take her place as Leza-hater on duty.

She set her jaw. "Yeah. No need to remind me. Hey, but can you do me a favor?"

"_Another_ one?" En asked with a mocking tone.

"Heh, yeah. If you see that friend of yours, Melissa, was it? Tell her I apologized and that we're cool, okay? She looks ready to break my spine over her knee."

"She's amazing, but yeah, kinda protective. I'll tell her, but I can't guarantee she won't try to kill you with lightning bolts from her eyes."

"Mm. I'll avoid her for a bit then."

The door opened and Arcade Gannon stuck his head through it. "I said not too long, Cass. Come on, out."

"Right, right. Thanks again, kid."

"Uh huh."

Cass beat a retreat under Arcade's punitive gaze. When she was gone, he came to sit by her. "I conclude from your goodbyes that you've at least agreed not to kill each other?"

"Yeah, we're good."

He looked back at the door, then back at En. "You're 'good'? You mean you forgave her? Just like that?"

"Uh... yeah?"

He briefly made a face that said 'not bad'. "I would have let her stew for a while after doing that to me."

"Pft. All this bickering just wastes time and energy. And she was sincere, so yeah."

"Right, well. Doctor's orders is another day of rest. You can traipse around a bit if you feel up to it, but no exertion or silliness."

"Aww," she whined. "I was supposed to go to Lake Mead today and do some diving."

"_Diving_?" Arcade echoed with incredulous disapproval. "Out of the question. Not until we're sure you're in the clear regarding those possible haemorrhages."

"Man," En whined. "This sucks."

"Not as much as getting a fatal stroke underwater would."

"Fine, _fine_." Another day wouldn't be a disaster, she figured. "But I _am_ going outside today. I need fresh air."

"As long as you're sure you're well enough to walk, fine. Just no crazy stuff."

"No. Just a walk or something."

"Mm. Not too long then."

"Yes, dad. Any idea where my friends are?"

Arcade hummed pensively. "Melissa is waiting for you downstairs, your 'liberated' friend's with her. They're both worried about you. The blonde seems to have a decent enough heart despite her promiscuity. That couple, Sunny and Ringo, was it? They're out shopping too. Seemed important. And the old man, no idea. Haven't seen him all day."

Melissa would probably know. She was curious what Sunny and Ringo were out shopping for, but she supposed she'd find out when they were back. Right now, she was damn hungry. After making sure she was still wearing her clothes, she sat up straight, trying to bite the hammering pain in her head. "Well, thanks for taking care of me." She grimaced against the pain. "But I'm really, _really_ hungry, and I'm gonna eat something. "There any way I can thank you for your care?"

"Just taking care of yourself would be thanks enough," he said with a broad smile. "And I didn't really do much, after all. As soon as you feel abnormal pressure on your skull, or a loss of motor functions, you come see me straight away or send someone to come get me, is that clear?"

"Yes, I will."

"And under no circumstance should you be alone today."

"Got it. Help me on my feet?"

"Sure." With a gentle hand, Arcade supported En's arm as she got up. Once she was actually on her feet, the headache got considerably less. Strange, but En didn't mind at all. It was still intense, but bearable. Arcade still balanced her. "Think you'll manage?"

"Uh huh, thanks."

"I'm letting you go now."

"M-hm."

He did so, and she managed to walk, enduring the pain in her head. Christ, this was Goodsprings all over again. Sunny would probably say the exact same thing. Oh yeah, another one she'd have to talk down from ripping Cass a new butthole. Ugh, it'd work out.

She wobbled to the elevator and got in. There was no Victor (_THANKFULLY_), so she pressed the casino floor button herself. A short and painful ride later, the elevator door opened.

The two Melissas promptly veered to their feet. "Oh my God Ennie, I heard what happened. Are you, like, okay?" Leza stormed at her and took her face in her hands, inspecting it thoroughly. "Like, what the Hell was that bitch thinking?"

"She was thinkin' about her guy stickin' it to a certain blonde who can't keep her legs closed," Melissa said calmly. "If you hadn't played socket for him, this wouldn't have happened."

"Shh! Like this is my fault?"

"It's nobody's fault, guys," En said wearily. "Don't bicker, it just makes my headache worse."

That helped. "Okay, right," Leza said busily. "Do you need, like, something to drink?"

"Thanks. Get some food from the fridge too?"

"Sure."

As Leza trotted off, Melissa and En sat down at a table. "I am going to tear off that bitch's head an' cram it in her arsehole," Melissa announced.

Even though the sincerity with which she said it made En chuckle, she said, "Nah. She said she was sorry. It's alright."

"Oh, she said she was sorry," Melissa echoed sarcastically. "Guess that's that then, huh?"

"Yes, Melissa. It is. She meant it."

Melissa let air escape from between her teeth. "Don't you think you're bein' a bit too forgivin' there?"

"Maybe. But it's a good thing I'm the forgiving kind, isn't it?"

That got the point across. "Say no more."

Leza arrived, carrying a tray with a plate and glass on it. As she came to the table, Arcade came out of the elevator and went out into the street, giving them a cheerful wave. Leza had brought orange juice and a cold omelette. Strange how House kept his fridges stocked even though there really wasn't supposed to be anyone there to eat it all. "Ta-daah!"

"Thanks, Leza." En wasted no time digging in. "Hey," she said with her mouth full. "You might wanna steer clear of Cass for a while."

"And of Garland too, while you're at it," Melissa added. "One sleepless night because of your squicky dirty talk's enough."

Leza's face turned beet-red and En had to admit she enjoyed the sight. "Yeah, okay," she said quietly, her cheeks burning with shame. "I'll uh, mind my own business for a bit."

Melissa's smirk didn't tell any lies. "Good."

"Hey, you guys know where Meyers is at?" En asked. "I know Sunny and Ringo are out, but where's the old guy?"

"I dunno," Melissa admitted. "Haven't seen him all day, to be honest. Haven't been in the room either."

"Maybe he's, like, reading in his room?"

A strange feeling crept up on En. "Maybe. Let's go check up on him, see if he's alright?"

"You guys go," Leza said. "I uh... need to get to a pharmacy."

Melissa shook her head. "Don't tell me you didn't use – "

"I was _out_, okay?" Leza snapped. "You can't just... _stop_ right in the middle and run to a drugstore?"

"I don't wanna listen to this," En said, finishing her cold omelette even though it didn't taste all that well anymore. "Go on, Leza, keep an eye out for Meyers, we'll go check if he's in his room."

"Uh... yeah. Okay." Leza nodded. "See you later."

"C'mon jill. You gonna make it to the elevator?"

"Shhyeah. I'm not a cripple, Melissa."

"Coulda fooled me."

"Watch it, you."

They rode the elevator back up, to the suites. Still no Victor. Thankfully.

"I'm gonna take a pee," En said. "You go knock on his door."

"Sure."

En trudged into Arcade and Veronica's room, which had been her room for the night, so she could still use the bathroom without it being awkward. She let her skirt and panties drop to her ankles and enjoyed an almost completely painfree wee. Her head still hurt, but at least her problem down below was as good as gone.

Vaguely, through the door, she head the knock of knuckles on wood as Melissa rapped on the door of the room she shared with Meyers. "Oi. Old geezer?"

En got up, did a quick wipe, and pulled her skirt back up. Now to wash her hands.

"Oh shit, En! _En!_"

It was Melissa's voice.

"En, get _over here_!"

Dropping the bar of soap into the sink, En stormed out of the bathroom, out of the room, into the hallway, and into the suite. What she saw made her heart stop and the pounding pain in her head briefly fell away.

"Don't just stand there!" Melissa shouted. "Get the rope!"

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around Meyers' waist, holding him up.

He hung from a rope, one end tied to the ceiling fan, and the other in a noose around his neck.

"En! Get the _fuckin'_ rope!"

She was nailed to the ground, paralyzed by the sight of Meyers, his back thankfully to her, hanging from the rope, Melissa holding him up, his neck at a horrible angle.

"En! The rope _god dammit_!"

Her paralysis broken, En wobbled towards Melissa.

"Stand on the table and get that noose off his neck," Melissa shouted.

As if someone else was in control of her body, En put her foot on the coffee table, went to stand on top of it, and reached as high as she could, closing her eyes as she got hold of the noose, and managed to slip it off his neck.

It was too late. It was hours and hours too late. She knew it was, and Melissa knew it too, but Melissa wouldn't give up without a fight even if it was pointless.

"Help me lower him!"

En did so, still completely numb. Meyers body wasn't even warm anymore, she could feel it through his clothes. And even as she helped Melissa put him down, her brain still felt disconnected, though she did notice, with a strange selective clarity, that he'd dressed with great care, cleanly buttoning his shirt and putting on fresh after-shave. The stetson hat lay on the ground near his feet.

Oh god, he was _dead_.

"Shit, shit, shit," Melissa hissed as they laid his body down on the bed. "We're too fuckin' late."

They were. En's eyes reflexively pressed themselves closed when she saw his face, but the glimpse she'd had was awful enough. His face was completely slack, his jaw hanging open, and his tongue, swollen and dark red, hanging out of it. Tears forced themselves out of her eyes and En heard herself wailing, "Melissa, please. Cover his face, please."

She heard Melissa breathe, "Yeah, yeah okay." Then there was the rustling of sheets and when En opened her eyes again, all that remained visible were his legs, neatly clad in bluejeans and his feet still in his cowboy boots.

There were more tears and without fully knowing what she was doing, En threw herself in Melissa's arms. "Oh God Melissa!" she cried, feeling her friend's arms close around her.

"I know, jill. I know. It's too late. We're too late."

En wanted to do nothing more than cry in Melissa's arms, and Melissa simply held her. En's head pounded with pain again but she didn't even register it. She made a few hitching sobs and then tried to breathe without hiccuping.

"We should have known. We should have checked sooner. Fuck us for not seein' this comin'."

"D... do you think it was because..."

"Of her? Yeah. Pretty sure it was."

"En? Melissa? Is everything..." Ringo's voice came from the doorway. En looked up and saw him notice Meyers' body. "Oh no."

Sunny stood next to him. "Oh God, Meyers."

"We were too late," Melissa simply said, letting go of En. "We should have..."

Ringo and Sunny came into the room so they all stood around the bed Meyers lay on.

"What happened?" Ringo asked, sounding completely calm, but nobody was calm. How could they be.

Melissa said nothing, just pointed her eyes at the noose hanging from the ceiling fan.

"Oh jesus," Sunny breathed. "Why?"

"Pretty sure we know why," Melissa said. "Should we tell her, jill?"

En immediately shook her head. "No. She can't know it's because of her."

"Who?" Sunny asked impatiently. "Who can't know?"

"The only one who isn't in this room, Sunny," En snapped. She felt bad about it right away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's okay. But... what does Watkins have to do with this?"

"If I may venture a guess," Ringo said, his voice sounding flat and lifeless, "the sheriff was more enamored with Initiate Watkins than he dared to show."

"He showed it alright," En sobbed, wiping her nose with a tissue. "I kept it to myself but he talked about it often. I should have seen this coming. I'm a terrible person."

"So am I," Melissa muttered. "How stupid were we?"

"Shh, come on," Sunny soothed. "Neither of you knew _this_ would happen?"

"There's... envelopes on the night stand," Ringo said quietly. He picked them up, scanned them, and handed them to En. "They're for you, miss En."

Sullenly, En took them. In Meyers' old-fashioned, flowy handwriting, one of the envelopes had "To miss Enlil Tessara – READ THIS FIRST" written on it, on the other stood, "En, read the other envelope first. You'll know what to do." There was a single folded up paper between the two envelopes, that simply said,

"To everyone,

I'm sorry."

Sunny's eyes were wet with tears when she read the paper. "We're sorry too, Cliff," she peeped. "Maybe if we'd been more – "

Ringo shook his head. "Don't hurt yourselves with the if and when. This is the decision Meyers has taken and we should respect that. I'm sure he knew we were all there for him if he wanted to talk or reach out."

Melissa's eyes were dry, but her face was grim. "We still should have known." And suddenly, she pounded her fist against the wall, so hard the mirror shook. "How fuckin' stupid were we?"

"Easy, Melissa," Sunny said gently. "Ringo's right, we can't blame ourselves for this."

En wiped the tears off her cheeks, her headache forgotten. "So what do we do know?"

"You know what to do," Melissa said. "Read those envelopes. We'll... take care of him."

"New Vegas law requires every death to be reported to the NCR," Ringo said. "But I'm sure Mr. House will agree that it's best to keep a lid on this."

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Don't think he'd tolerate NCR boys stomping around his place."

"I'll... go tell House," En said, still wiping tears.

"Very well," Ringo said. "Make sure your eyes are dry. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you heartbroken."

"Oh I won't." She stood there for a while, looking at the jeans-clad legs sticking out from under the sheets. "We've all gotten our scratches and bruises during this trip, but... no one actually _died_ before."

She was met with silence.

"Things are never going to be the same again, are they?"

Only Melissa spoke. "No."

* * *

><p><strong>END OF<strong>

**PART TWO**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>


	60. Another Intermission

**SIXTY**

**Far away from New Vegas**

**July 17****th**

**12:23**

"Honey, look!"

"Mm?"

"Finally got another card from our prodigal daughter."

"Ah! I was getting worried. Show, show!"

"Worried?" James Tessara laughed. "Our En can take care of herself. She's our girl, have a little faith."

Hannah Fenton didn't share his optimism. She never did. Sure, En was old enough, and sure, she wasn't helpless, but anything could happen out there. It was a cruel world outside New Arroyo – they'd found that out themselves before settling here. In fact, it could be a cruel world inside New Arroyo too, as they'd experienced on the first month they'd arrived, during the night the police chief was burned alive by a crazed mob, the apocalyptic ending of a string of murders that had claimed the lives of the chief's girlfriend, the police lieutenant, a teenager who worked the bar, the policeman working dispatch and the deputy mayor, plus several suicides after the facts.

They'd been on the verge of packing up and going somewhere else, but the new police chief, a man who perfectly combined sober professionalism with a friendly down-to-earth attitude, had convinced them to stay. The fact that the school teacher, who should have been dead ten times over too, and the town doctor had asked them to compile a history work about the town hadn't hurt either, James being immediately sold to the concept, and Hannah had to admit she'd seen it as a challenge either, despite all the brutality they would have to portray without sugarcoating. And she supposed if you were going to have anyone do it, a couple made up of the historian-slash-writer combo would be the best team you could imagine.

But it was a cruel world out there, even if New Arroyo itself had remained a peaceful and safe oasis after that one fiery and bloody night. She'd known better than to protest against En's courier job – because come on, how had she been at her age? – but she always saw her daughter off with a heavy heart. And now she'd been gone for a very long time already. Good thing she still sent a card every once in a while, so they knew she was safe. She wasn't on some dangerous adventure, just a complication with delivery of her package, as she wrote on her cards, but still. Anything could happen.

"She's been making friends, it seems," James said, looking at the card with a look of both interest and wariness. "What a crew."

"What," Hannah joked, her worry temporarily forgotten now that they'd gotten another card, "two terrorists, a flower girl, a research specimen and a former soldier?"

"Heh, not exactly. Take a look." He held the card out to her. Well, it wasn't really a card, more like a polaroid picture, its back scribbled completely full with En's horrible handwriting. She put her book down and took the card.

She wasn't alone in the picture. In the middle of the group was En, flanked by a rather... 'colourful' entourage. There was a tough-as-nails looking woman who looked like she'd rather lie down on a cactus bed than pose for a picture, dressed in biker get-up, with tattoos everywhere and a horrible, _horrible_ haircut, an old guy with a cowboy fetish, a blonde who looked like she'd escaped from the pages of a nudie magazine, and a couple. They looked close to normal at least, the girl a short Hispanic-looking outdoorsy type with a tightly-bound ponytail and the man a rather handsome but stern-looking caravaneer. A German shepherd made the picture complete, staring into the camera with a sullen look.

"Well, she... certainly looks well-protected?" Hannah said hesitantly. They all had guns either on their backs or on their hips, except En. Good. Hannah had told her not to lay one finger on a gun until she was eighteen, except to repair it, and it was good to see she'd obeyed.

Hannah was sure En hadn't simply put her gun aside to get the picture taken because she knew her mom would be pissed.

"I didn't know you needed such a huge group to deliver a package," James said sourly.

"Oh my god her hair!" Hannah exclaimed, suddenly noticing the shortly cut fauxhawk. "James," she said, miffed. "She cut her hair. Look."

"Ohhh yeah," her husband remarked, looking closely. "What's that on the side of her head though? Can't really make it out..."

"Probably just the light. But James! We never said it was okay for her to cut her hair." As she said it, she realized how silly that sounded.

"The girl is sixteen, Hannah," James said with a smile. "She's old enough to decide how she gets her hair cut."

Even though she knew he was right, Hannah couldn't help but harrumph. En had always been a bit of a free-fought type, but getting her hair cut short without telling them... it was a sign of incipient teen rebellion.

"Hannah," James laughed. "It's just _hair_!"

"Hair's where it starts," she said. "Soon she'll want to get a tattoo."

"Then she gets a tattoo," her husband said with a shrug.

"And then she'll suddenly become lesbian, get a job in a coffee bar and go on some soul searching journey or something."

James laughed again. "Oh Hannah, baby, I think you're exaggerating, and not a little bit."

She supposed he was right. And no matter how much she worried, she wouldn't be able to do anything about it if it happened anyway.

"It's funny," James remarked. "I'm the historian and you're the writer. You'd expect me to be stuffy and old-fashioned and you to be all worldly and progressive."

"I am _not_ stuffy and old-fashioned," Hannah protested. The very notion was absurd. "It's just... she'll always be my little girl, you know?"

Her husband came to stand behind her and closed his arms around her. "Of course. But you need to accept that she'll live her life the way she wants to."

"I know, I know."

"So, don't you want to read what she wrote?"

"Oh! Right, of course!"

* * *

><p>"Colonel."<p>

"Yes, captain? More good news?"

"Afraid so."

"Well, at least the monorail can't blow up _again_."

"No, ma'am."

"So, spit it out!"

"I think you should see for yourself, colonel."

"I thought I had lookouts and runners so that I wouldn't _have_ to go see everything for myself?"

"I... really think you'll want to see this, ma'am."

"Fine. Fine. Lead on."

"It's topside, ma'am."

"Yes, I figured it would be. Phew, damn this sun."

"Yes ma'am. Patrolling the Mojave almost makes you wish f – "

"_Don't_ say it. Now what is it you wanted to show me? Oh, wait. That it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Those are secret service vertibirds."

"Yes ma'am."

"Now why would there possibly be secret service agents landing here?"

"I... don't know, colonel."

"Well I do. The secret service are landing here to recon and sweep the site. Because in a few days, the President will be arriving."

"The P... President Kimball?"

"You know of another President?"

"No ma'am, sorry ma'am."

"I should have known he'd pick this place to come visit. Probably want to hold a speech too."

"Here? In the most dangerous place in the Wastes?"

"Of course. Our brave leader has to show the world he doesn't fear Legion scum. Of course, it's easy not to fear anyone if you're surrounded by secret service agents in power armour."

"Oh man, this isn't good."

"Certainly isn't. You know why we don't salute on the Dam, don't you?"

"Of course, colonel."

"Yeah, well. A guy in a suit surrounded by armed-to-the-teeth secret service, standing on a podium, giving a speech with a big bull's eye on his forehead. But we're not saluting him, so the Legion will never know he's a prime target, don't worry."

"No, I don't think it'd be realistic to hope the Legion is that stupid, ma'am."

"Don't think so either. And the secret service vertos landing right here instead of a klik or two away made sure they know he's coming, well in advance. Wouldn't be fair not to give them a few days to plan the whole thing, would it?"

"No ma'am."

"So in short, he's bound to get his head blown off by a Legion sniper."

"Well, ma'am, frankly, if he wants to risk his life, it's his call, isn't it?"

"Oh, of course. He wants to get his head pulped, he's welcome. I just fucking wish he didn't decide to get it done here."

* * *

><p>"Hey look, we got a card."<p>

"You mean, the bar got a card?"

"Same thing! Guess who it's from."

"Allison, come on, I need to open in ten minutes."

"Aw, go on, guess."

"Uhhh... Your mom and dad were out on a trading run, right?"

"M-hm. But not them."

"Steve and Chitsa?"

"Nope, their cards always arrive late, after they're already back, remember."

"Right. I bet they just come home and then dump cards in everyone's letterbox. Oh wait, don't tell me..."

"Hee hee, yep, your number one fan."

"You mean the one who'll claw your eyes out when she hears we're together."

"Uh... yeah. But go on, take a look. She looks like she's made some friends."

"Huh. That'd be a first."

"Come on, don't be mean. She's my friend... kinda."

"Fine, fine. Let's see her bunch of losers. C'mon, gimme."

"Here. She's scrawled on the back too."

"Photo first, drivel later... Hmm. Honestly I'd expected a lot worse. Whoa, that blonde."

"Uh, close your mouth, maybe? Sheesh, figured you'd notice her first."

"Well, she's... highly noticeable."

"Sure is. No homo, but she's gorgeous. Wish I was that beautiful."

"Aw, you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Yeah sure."

"The rest of them look kinda meh though. Some old cowboy wannabe, the most boring-looking couple in the world, and I don't even know what that one is supposed to be."

"She looks like she'd break _you_ in two."

"That's because I'm a lover, not a fighter. Hey, hadn't noticed that. Look, she cut her hair."

"Ohhh yeah."

"Because she wasn't androgynous enough before."

"Come on. But yeah... cutting my hair would be the last thing I did if I was her. Hey, don't just toss it behind the bar. She's written stuff, come on, you should read it."

"I will. Later."

"Well aren't you at least going to pin it up there along with the other cards?"

"I will. Later."


	61. Truth

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART THREE<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>SIXTY-ONE<strong>

**Lucky 38**

**July 17****th**

**15:02**

"So what do we do now?"

"Like Melissa said," Sunny told En. "You go talk to Mr. House and you sit down nice and quiet, and read those envelopes. We'll take care of everything else."

"Hey!" Melissa suddenly remarked. "You've bought glasses."

Shit yeah. En hadn't noticed it yet, but perched on Sunny's nose was a pair of glasses. The rims were a rounded rectangular shape, looking a bit dull but not ugly.

Sunny chuckled nervously. "Yeah. I didn't know people could actually see that sharp! These are loaners though, the optician needs a day or two to get the lenses ready in the rims I've chosen."

"Oh good," En said, trying to find some levity amid all the bleakness. "Cause these look kinda boring."

"I know, right?" Sunny agreed. "It's just until the actual ones are ready."

"You suddenly look even more intelligent, Sunny," Melissa said, clearly intent on the same thing En was, and even being prepared to give Sunny an uncharacteristic compliment in doing so.

But Ringo didn't share their point of view. "Ladies. There's a man lying dead right there."

"You think I'm not aware of that?" Melissa bit at him, saying exactly what En wanted to. "But blubbin' like little children isn't gonna help him much, is it?"

"Still," Ringo held on. "It's a bit disrespectful to make merry while he lies there."

"I don't agree, Ringo", En said. "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want us to stand here and bawl our eyes out. And honestly, I think we all need to keep our spirits up instead of letting our heads hang low."

"You both have a point," Sunny tried to tread the middle ground. "But hey guys, we should make sure Leza doesn't have to come back to this. Sweetie, you go and talk to House."

She was right, En supposed. If they could spare one person the sight of Meyers' dead body, they should. "Alright. I'll make sure House keeps the NCR guys off your backs."

"Cool," Melissa said. "Now come on, let's get him outta here. Get 'im some fresh air."

"Miss En," Ringo called after her as she walked to the elevator.

Great, what now? More self-righteous, condescending preaching?

"You were right about keeping your spirits up. It was wrong of me to see your light-heartedness as a lack of respect. I apologize."

Well, well. En had never thought she'd see the day. "That's alright, Ringo, I know you mean well."

"I do. Alright, now you go and notify Mr. House, we'll do the rest."

"Okay, thanks."

As she rode the elevator, her heart returned to being cold and leaden. She tried to focus on something else, like Sunny's glasses, or the cards she'd sent home, but she couldn't get it out of her mind, that sight of Meyers' face. She'd seen people die before, Hell, even killed some of them, but they'd been _bad_ people. And if not bad people, at least people she hadn't known well. There was one, but that had been an accident, and En had decided to put that behind her.

But seeing someone you know dead... that was just totally different. It was someone you _knew_, someone you'd _talked to_, had your opinions about, and who had their opinions about you. Maybe she should have been there for the guy more, but come on, she was a sixteen-year-old kid with a hole in her head and a ton on her mind. She didn't have to feel guilty over it. And neither did Melissa. The guy had killed himself, it had been his decision and no one else's, and he knew they would have been there for him if he'd reached out. And plus, what would she have been able to do? Not like she could make Watkins miraculously fall in love with her. Hell, even Watkins couldn't make Watkins fall in love with her.

Most important thing was damage control now. Watkins being who she was, there was no telling how she'd react if she found out the man had killed himself over her. She looked at the envelopes between her fingers. One of them would probably be for Watkins. If Meyers wanted her to have it, she'd respect that wish.

"Afternoon, miss," Jane the secretaritron greeted En as she got off the elevator.

"I need to see House."

"_Mr._ House will see you in a minute."

"Uh huh."

After some uncomfortable waiting in the empty cocktail lounge, the bot standing awkwardly still and silent, House was ready to see her. Jane's eyes lit back up and it said, "Mr. House will see you now."

"Uh huh."

The face on the monitor was still the same as it always was. "Miss Tessara. What news do you bring? Has the Boomers' plane surfaced yet?"

"Not really. I had a medical emergency."

"Nothing that would impair your capability to execute my assignment, I hope?"

Geez, what a philanthropist. "No, don't worry. I just needed to stay under observation for a day."

"Good, good. But you didn't come all the way up here to tell me that."

Right. Spit it out, En. "No. There's something you should know."

"I'm listening."

"One of my group, well... something's happened to him."

"And by something, you mean death?"

"... Yes." The man didn't have a shred of tact in his brain, or circuits, or whatever.

"Practical as I am, I'd consider that fortunate."

"Yeah. One less person to share your profit with, huh?" En said, feeling anger rise up in her chest. Treating people like tools was just disgusting.

"Indeed."

"Only problem is, it happened here. In your casino."

"I assume none of you murdered him?"

"_No_." But in a way, maybe. "Well, unless you see suicide as murdering yourself."

"Suicide _is_ murdering oneself." The home cinema was quiet for a few moments. "So now you have a dead body on your hands."

"Meyers was our friend. He's not 'a dead body on our hands'," En snapped. He was really pushing it now.

"Of course. To each his own. But your predicament remains the same. NCR law states every death must be reported."

"I'm aware of that," En said, her teeth clenched.

"Of course, NCR law is not the highest law in New Vegas."

_Stop masturbating_, En thought to herself. _Just agree to keep this under wraps, you'll benefit from it just as much_. She kept it diplomatic, though. "No, exactly. Which is why I'm here now."

"Very well. I'll notify the NCR that this particular death does not require investigation." He was quiet for a moment. "You've had much need of me during your time in my employ, miss Tessara."

"Yeah, well," En grunted. "I'm just a stupid sixteen-year-old."

"Yes, I suppose your age is a mitigating factor. I will deduct a thousand caps from your fee as compensation."

"Sure, whatever." It was a bummer, but fine. She wasn't in the mood to argue money today.

"NCR soldiers will not trouble you when you bury the body."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I trust that is all?"

"Yeah, it is. I'll be back when I'm done with those Boomers."

"Very well. It's not a matter of life and death, but don't dawdle."

As she turned, he added, "If you complete this assignment successfully, I may have another for you. One far more delicate, and well-paying."

"We'll see."

She rode the elevator back to the suites and flopped herself down on the bed. The floor was empty, which meant her friends had already started taking the body downstairs. They were apparently confident En would get House' cooperation. Well, they hadn't been wrong, so so much the better.

She closed her eyes for a bit, letting the headache wash over her, accepting its painful pounding.

The envelopes had to be read, and postponing it would only make it worse. She sat up and propped herself up against the head end of the bed, then slid her fingernail under the envelope's flap. "Read this first", it said, so she left the other envelope closed for now.

_Hey little lady,_

_First and foremost, sorry about all this. Didn't mean to leave you all hangin'. Get it? Hangin'? Sorry, bad joke._

_I don't think I need to explain why you found me like you did. You know the reason well enough. Try as I might, I couldn't get her out of my head. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but all I wanted was just to hold her in my arms. I guess I subconsciously wanted to 'save' her from her life style, I don't know._

_Whatever the case, it's clear that nothing that I want will ever come true, and I'm done. I'm tired, tired of being alone and tired of being rejected. The fact that she said my age was the reason just made it worse – because if that hadn't been there, then maybe it would have been possible. It's always been 'almost' and 'if not for...' in my life and I don't want it anymore._

_I'm not gonna rant at you, I did that enough already. I just wanna say that there is _nothing_ you or anyone else have to blame themselves for. Not even Leza. I don't want you to see her as 'the reason' or as 'the guilty one'. It's nobody's fault except mine. Tell that to everyone, okay?_

_I wrote two envelopes, as you see, and one of 'em is for you, that's this one. The other, you guessed it, is for Leza. It explains everything to her, how I feel, and why I did this. I would have just left it for her, but I was torn – torn between her right to know the truth, and her right not to carry this on her shoulders, because no matter how much I'll say she has nothing to feel guilty about, it's just impossible to be in that situation and _not_ feel guilty._

_So I'm leavin' the decision to you. I want you to decide whether or not she gets the envelope. No matter what you choose, I support it. _

_Thanks for everything. Thanks for making this old man feel alive, thanks for the friendship you've all given me. I hope you guys do what you need to do safely and that you go back home with all the money you can carry. And why not, I hope that you in particular hook that bartender guy you have a crush on and spend many happy years together._

_You've been a pal, En. Love, Cliff._

En lowered the paper and squeezed the tears out of her eyes. It was easy to tell people not to feel guilty, but they always did. Even though she knew she wasn't to blame, she still felt horrible about it. She should have done more. They all should have.

A tear fell on the second envelope, making a grey stain on the white paper and making the 'e' of 'Leza' run out. En took it between her fingers and held it to her eye, turning it over as if that would make it clear what to decide.

Tell Leza the truth and make her feel horrible or lie to her and let her carry on guilt-free?

Allow Meyers to express the depths of his feelings to her or silence him forever?

Give her the envelope or not?

En stood up, took Leza's disposable plastic lighter, walked to the bathroom, and lit the corner of the envelope, watching through her tears as it burned to ash in the sink.


	62. Sending

**SIXTY-TWO**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 17****th**

**16:11**

"Oh hey, you feeling a little better?"

En looked up from the letter from Meyers she'd re-read after burning the envelope meant for Leza. The same person who now stood in the doorway asking her how she was. "Yeah, yeah my... head's fine." She quickly crumpled the letter and stuck it in her pocket, trying not to make it look too conspicuous.

"Um, like... have you been crying?"

She couldn't tell her why, but that didn't mean she didn't have to tell her what had happened. "Leza... sit down a sec."

"Oh my God." Her face went slack. "Something happened."

En tapped the bed she sat on. "Sit."

Leza sat down and asked, "What's going on?"

"It's Meyers. He..." Shit, she hadn't thought of anything to say yet. If she said it had been suicide, Leza would ask why, and there was no way she'd be able to come up with a plausible explanation. "He..."

"What, _what_?"

Crap, crap, crap. "He... had a heart attack." It wasn't the best explanation, but it would have to do.

Leza straightened up, her eyes wide. "Oh my God, is it bad? How is he?"

"He uh... he died, Leza."

She sat there, motionless except for the trembling of her lower lip. After a few moments, she managed to get a few words out. "I... can't believe it. Just, like... so suddenly."

"Yeah. Nobody saw it coming." _Even though some of us should have._

"Geez, poor Meyers." Leza slowly let the news sink in, her gaze trailing off. "He never mentioned anything about his heart. I mean..." She fell silent.

"No. I know." _He mentioned it plenty of times_.

Leza remained remarkably composed apart from her trembling lip. Her hands were in her lap, holding each other. "So... what now?"

"Sunny, Ringo and Melissa are trying to find a place to um... bury him. I just went up to talk to House, tell him what happened."

"As if it's _his_ business."

"It's still his building, I guess. Only natural that I should tell him if someone died."

Leza was quiet for a moment. "This sucks the big one."

"Yeah."

"... Geez. A heart attack. Just like that."

En felt horrible about not telling her the truth, but this was the best way. It really was. It had to be.

"So we just... go on?"

"I think we have to. He wouldn't want us to see this as a reason to quit." _He wouldn't want a lot of things_.

Leza sniffed and nodded. "You're right. Oh man, poor Meyers."

"Yeah. Come on, let's go see if the others are back."

They both rode the elevator back down in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. En was pretty sure Leza's thoughts would weigh far less on her conscience than hers. It was too late for this one, but she had to stop lying to people. Had to stop choosing the easy way to avoid trouble. Because this shit would catch up to her some day. God damn that headache.

The elevator _ding_'ed and they got out. The others had already returned and were sitting down, having a drink. En realized it was a sight she'd never expected: Sunny and Ringo sitting down and having a drink with Melissa, without En there to push them into it. Maybe what had happened to Meyers had humbled them a bit, make them put some things into perspective. One could only hope.

"Hi guys. I told Leza about Meyers. About his heart attack." She deliberately mentioned it hoping the others would pick up on it.

"Yeah," Melissa said. "You alright, blondie?"

"Mm," Leza nodded. En could tell she was trying to stay strong, and mostly succeeding. "It's just all so sudden, and unfair. He was, like, a good guy?"

"He was," Ringo agreed. "Bad things so often happen to good people."

"We've arranged to have him buried tonight," Sunny said to En. "Hope you're feeling well enough to come, but the chapel couldn't do it any later. With the heat, and all."

"Yeah, sure. I'm fine." She wasn't 'fine', but going to Meyers' funeral was the least she could do.

"They'll be ready in an hour," Melissa said.

"Would it be... inappropriate if I go and freshened up first?" Watkins asked cautiously.

_Yes, Leza, it would be inappropriate to try and look your best if you're the reason he's dead._ "No, sure. There's still time."

"You should splash some water in your face too, Ennie."

"Sure, yeah. I'll just do it in the bathroom over here though."

"Oh. Okay."

They watched Leza go, and when the elevator doors closed, Sunny said, "Sure you want to make her believe he had a heart attack?"

En nodded. "Sure. Meyers wrote it in his goodbye letter. The second envelope was for Leza but he... asked me not to give it to her because it'd hurt her too much." Another lie. God dammit.

Ringo blinked. "So why'd he write it?"

"I dunno," En said. That was a tricky question. "I suppose he just wanted to write it on paper, I don't know."

Ringo didn't seem convinced but he didn't pursue it. "Strange."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Melissa said. "Not like we'd be doin' her a favour sayin' it's her fault."

"Oh by the way," En asked, hoping to change the subject. "Has anyone moseyed over to the Crimson Caravan to go talk to that one redhead our Boomer friend was so fond of?"

"No," Ringo said, "But the Crimson Caravan's just a little detour on the way to Lake Mead. We might as well swing by."

"Cool. So, how's the glasses working out?"

Sunny smiled, embarrassed. "I'm not fond of wearing them, because they make me look goofy, but man, being able to see sharp is... like a new world that opens up."

"Heh, I imagine," Melissa said, emptying her beer.

"And they don't make you look goofy," Ringo said, taking her hand and giving a kiss on her fingers. "I don't even notice them anymore."

"Yeah, you look fine, Sunny," En agreed. "It'll be even better when you get your real ones, right?"

"I hope so. I feel like everyone's staring at me."

"That's just a thought," Melissa said. "Sides, if anyone stands out in this group, it's me."

The elevator _ding_'ed and Leza came out. She hadn't exaggerated on the grooming, thankfully, but she still looked stunning. En supposed men had killed themselves over less. Dammit, Meyers.

"... Too much?" Leza asked.

"Nah," Melissa answered. "You're good. Come on."

They walked quietly to the chapel, En and Leza following the others, since they knew where it was. They'd actually carried a dead body all the way there. En had no idea how they'd pulled it off without trouble. If the body looked like it was asleep, you could just say it was your drunk friend, but a body like that, with the neck snapped, the face dark blue and the tongue –

En forced herself to stop thinking about it. There was no point continually re-evoking the image, but she couldn't get it out of her head. Old man Meyers, with his love for books, his exaggerated vocabulary and his knack for cooking. Meyers, who'd gotten shot in the leg by Leza and who'd managed to limit his anger to a silent scowl. The guy they'd freed from the isolation booth at NCRCF, En wondering if he wasn't too dangerous to let out, Meyers who'd spent the entire walk through the dark cave holding his packet of books while Melissa dragged the AutoDoc behind her. Putting on the stetson and asking how it looked. Dead now.

"Hey um, Ennie?"

"Mm?"

"You sure you're alright? I mean, you're not like, taking it too hard, are you?"

"No, Leza. I'll be fine, it's just... someone died, you know. Think it's natural to be sad about it."

"Oh yeah, of course. I mean, I'm sad too. I just wanna say, I hope you're okay."

"I'm _fine_, Leza."

They'd reached the chapel. It looked strangely colourful to be a burial place, with red and yellow lights blinking on the pink walls. The doorway was a large heart. What the Hell? Was _this_ a chapel? "Uh, guys? What's this?"

Melissa turned around. "I know, but don't judge just yet. The guy runnin' this is a priest. He's just used to doin' weddings, an' not funerals. But he's makin' the exception."

"Fine, I guess, but this better be a decent service."

Ringo spoke without turning his head. "It will be."

The man coming out to meet them was dressed in a silvery jumpsuit with a high collar, and had his hair done in a greasy, pompadour hairstyle. He looked a bit like the man Garland had talked to back at the Tops, only more exaggerated. His pot belly didn't exactly make the jumpsuit look like a good fashion choice.

"Howdy, folks," the man said hastily. "Sorry I'm still dressed like this, I had a wedding to do at the last minute."

"A wedding at the last minute?" Sunny asked. "How can a wedding be at the last minute?"

"Ma'am, you'd be surprised how quickly people decide to get married in Vegas."

"Hi," En said. "You'll be changing clothes before the service, right?" She took care to make it clear she wasn't asking.

"Yeah, of course, don't worry. Gimme a minute and I'm there." He motioned toward the pews, made of wood painted in gaudy pink. The entire chapel was an eyesore, the colours far too bright, and tacky photos of long-dead celebrities on the walls.

"Um, _this_ is where we're going to have Cliff's funeral?" Leza asked, sounding indignant, and En didn't blame her.

"Guys," she whispered, hissing the words at them. "This looks like a whore house. Why would you possibly choose a place like this to have the service?"

"Because it's the only place in Vegas that has an actual priest," Melissa hissed back. "It's not like there's any churches here."

"We had to choose this place," Ringo explained calmly. "It looks rather gaudy, but the gentleman knows his trade."

"I think," Sunny added, "that Meyers wouldn't mind where the service was held, as long as everyone's here, right?"

Nice and presumptuous, Sunny. "I still think this isn't a good place."

"It's the least worst," Ringo said.

"Well, good to know we've settled for the least worst place when it comes to burying our friend, then," En grunted at that.

"Come on, sweetie," Sunny said, putting her hand on En's leg. "I know it's hard, but there's no point making it even more difficult."

En crossed her arms. "I'm not making it difficult."

En saw Melissa get up and followed her eyes. She was looking at the new people that came in, Garland and his crew. Even Cass was there.

Hmph, she had to stop thinking of Cass as 'even she was there'. She'd said she was sorry, and En had told her she'd forgiven her, so now she had to act – and think – like it. And she supposed she had to get up and say hello, being the _LEADER_ and all. The other group seemed to place a lot of importance in that stuff. "Hey guys."

"Hey," Garland said back. "Figured we'd show up, you know, out of respect and all?"

En nodded. "Yeah, that's cool, thanks."

He took her aside while the others exchanged greetings. "So, what happened, if I may ask?"

"Heart attack."

His face showed that he didn't buy it. "He got a heart attack from the noose around his neck?" Oh, shit, they'd forgotten to throw that away. But how did he know it was still in there? He answered her question before she asked it. "Arcade was looking for you and saw it lying there."

"Oh."

"Any idea why?"

_Yes, I do have an idea. Because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants and just had to fuck the object of his affection in the god damn room next door!_ "No. He just wrote something saying he was sorry."

"Geez. I'm sorry, kid."

_You should be, it was your fault._ "It's okay. Not your fault."

"Still. You shouldn't have to deal with stuff like that at your age." Oh god, there he went again with his condescending ageist bullshit.

"Garland, thanks for coming but can you not talk down to me because of my age? My temper's very short right now."

Thankfully, he got the message. "Right, sorry. I understand."

"Thanks."

"Sorry to keep you waitin', folks," the erstwhile-jumpsuited man said, marching into the chapel. He'd changed his idiotic get-up to a pair of black pants and a white shirt. It wasn't a priest robe but it was at least a bit more dignified. "We'll uh, conduct the service at the site."

He led them out the back passage, into a small clearing behind the chapel. On the other side of it lay the high walls that kept the invaders, looters, animals and undesirables out of New Vegas. It was a surprisingly secluded and tranquil spot. There weren't any trees, but the edge of the clearing was ringed with cacti, which gave it an unexpectedly pleasant look. A grave had been dug already, and the casket was inside it, a cheap box made of mdf-plates hammered together. En didn't think Meyers would be demanded a polished cherrywood coffin had he been alive. Next to the grave was a pedestal on which an urn stood.

"I need to say something in advance," the priest said carefully. "I uh... I'm used to doing more festive occasions. If I mess up, don't uh..." his eyes went to the weapons attached to every single belt in the company. "... Don't go shootin' me or anything."

"Depends on how badly you botch the job," En said. It was a joke. But not entirely.

He seemed mostly unfazed. "Well, I firmly believe that when it comes to funeral services, the people who were close to the departed have much more interesting things to say than some guy in a robe. So if anyone would like to start...?" he motioned towards the empty spot right in front of the grave.

All eyes went to En. Figured they'd want her to say something first. "Um... aren't you supposed to do the talking?"

The priest didn't make a fuss. "I could if you want me to, but you were the people closest to him...?"

She supposed he was right. "Yeah, I guess..." She walked to the empty spot feeling all eyes on her. "Uh..." She cleared her throat to stall the whole thing a bit. What to say, what to say... It wasn't that she didn't have enough things to say, it was simply that she had no idea how to say something that wouldn't sound ridiculous.

She looked down at the coffin and began. "Meyers, you always told me to call you Cliff, and I never did. Don't know why. It wasn't because I didn't like you or anything. Guess it was because I looked up to you. Always considered you like this wise grandfather or something. Someone just... not on the same level as me."

She felt herself getting emotional, but she pressed on.

"Stupid, I guess. Because you were a friend. I think you were to all of us. Everyone liked you, which is more than you can say for me," she joked, chuckling at the same time fresh tears came to stand in her eyes. "Some people teach by talking, others teach by saying nothing at all. You were one of those people, sheriff. Thanks for everything." And before the emotions became too strong, she repeated his own last words back to him. "You've been a pal."

Her voice broke at the last word, but she didn't care. A dead friend is the least worst moment to show your emotions. She closed her eyes and felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder.

"You were my roomie, y'old geezer," Melissa said next to her. "And we had some laughs when we bunked together. Laughs between us, that no one knew about, and no one will. Cause those laughs are ours, and ours alone. Just like other laughs we had with you were laughs we all had together." En felt Melissa's hand briefly squeeze her shoulder. "Shit, you're probably laughin' right now at how corny I'm soundin', but I mean it. Cliff, every scotch I drink from now on will be in your honour. "Hooroo, mate. We'll miss ya."

Silence fell, and the priest waited for a few seconds. When no one said anything, he began, "I won't bore you people with talk about God and Jesus Christ. God's love is the love between people, and people who were loved like Clifton Meyers was, will live forever in the hearts of others, and in the heart of God. I think it's indeed a happy man who is surrounded by friends in a moment such as this, friends who speak from the heart." He looked at En. "I now invite you all to bid a final farewell to Clifton Meyers."

"Uh...?"

The priest smiled patiently. "You take a handful of earth from the urn and cast it onto the coffin, and say any last words if you have them."

"Oh." So that was what the urn was for. En scooped up a handful of earth and let it fall onto the coffin. "So long, Meyers." And when no one could hear, she added, "I'm sorry, but this is best. I know you understand. Goodbye, Cliff."

Everyone passed by the coffin, even Garland's crew, which was quite cordial of them. None of them said a word, but they weren't really expected to. Not like they'd really known him well, after all.

When everyone was done, the priest motioned for two men with shovels, who'd appeared in the church's back door without En noticing. One flicked his cigarette butt away and they came forward, and began shovelling dirt on the coffin.

"We now commit Clifton Meyers' body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life."

En felt like she had to say one more thing. "We won't forget you, Cliff. Thanks for all the good times."

The priest nodded. "We'll take good care of him. Let's go inside."

There was some talking when they were back inside the gaudy church, but it was all murmured, as if people were trying to respect the sanctity of this ugly, tacky building.

"Hey kid," Garland motioned to the side room of the chapel. "C'mon, let's talk."

"Uh... sure?" En followed him and closed the door behind her before sitting down opposite Garland. "Whatcha need?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just wanna say... I'm sorry about the old guy."

"I'm sure the 'old guy' wouldn't have minded if you said that in public. That all you wanted to say?"

"Yeah I guess." He looked at the table. "Well, I also wanted to ask you how you were holding up." He looked up at her, and he actually seemed sincere enough.

"I'm... alright, I guess. Don't think it's sunk in yet, you know?" she said, telling him the truth. "Like he doesn't really feel... _dead_, know what I mean?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Always takes some time for it to really feel real. You okay though?"

She didn't feel like he was asking just for appearances. "M-hm, I'll be fine."

"Sucks that you have to deal with this at your age."

It was yet another condescending, ageist remark, but it was meant well, so En supposed it'd be bad form to call him out on it. "It sucks to deal with this at any age, I guess."

"Ain't it the truth."

Since she was alone with him, it was a good opportunity to get something off her chest that she'd been wanting to confront him with for a while now. In fact, this conversation was a typical example of what he did. "You know, Garland..."

"Mm?"

"Sometimes you're a total jerk, and at other times you're a pretty cool guy. What's with that?"

"Huh, what?" He acted like he didn't know what she was talking about, but she knew better.

"You know what I mean. You keep alternating between these two personas, the condescending jerk-ass and the caring big brother-type. And I think you're perfectly aware of that."

He laughed nervously. "Kid, I have no idea what you're talking about." But how he sat back defensively in his chair told her different.

"You do know. You keep putting people on the wrong foot. Not sure why though. To bring them off balance? Make them more vulnerable?"

"Again, I have no idea – "

"It's not just with me. You do it to other people too. The way you acted like you've never seen Leza before in your life, just now. The way you alternately compliment Arcade and put him down." This was touchy, but she had to say it. "And the way you play with Cass' heart."

"Whoa hey." He immediately went on the defensive, and that was to be expected. "Who the Hell do you think you are?"

"I'm just saying – "

"Don't just be saying," he snapped. "Me and Cass, that's my god damn business, that clear?"

He was sorely mistaken, and if he was gonna be a dick about it, then En just had to throw it in his face. "It _is_ my god damn business, Garland!"

He crossed his arms. "Really? Then pray tell? How the _fuck_ is it your business? Huh?" His face bore a mixture of anger, and the confidence that people had when they were convinced the other wouldn't be able to respond. But she had a response, and it had to be said.

"Because if you'd kept your dick in your pants," she bit back, "then my friend wouldn't be in that coffin right now!"

He blinked, his confrontational look instantly gone, replaced by sullen confusion. "Huh? What?"

She briefly doubted whether or not it had been a good idea, but it was too late now. She'd started it, now she had to finish it. "Meyers didn't have a heart attack," she said calmly. "He hanged himself."

"What? Why?"

"Be_cause_, Garland, he had to listen to the woman he loved more than anything in the world, spreading her legs and squealing for more while you were sticking it to her!"

Garland fell silent.

"And it's all because you keep up that attraction-repulsion game with Cass. And because you play that same game with others. Or should I just pretend that _wasn't_ the tactic you tried to use to get it on with me that night?"

He pointed his finger at her. "That was a _mistake_. I fucking told you that already. It was like you said, every time I see you in the daylight, I wonder _what the fuck was I thinking_."

"Well gee, thanks, _asshole_."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. But it's pretty shitty that you'd accuse me of playing games with people."

"But you _do_," she insisted. "I'm not saying you're a bad guy, Garland, but you're a manipulator."

He blew out air through his nose. "Everyone manipulates."

"Maybe, but not like that. Not like you do."

He got up abruptly and marched to the door. "Whatever, kid. Go do your job for House and stay out of my god damn way. I came here out of respect for you and your guys, but it's clear that was a mistake."

"Don't be ridiculous," En said. "I appreciate that you came here. This was just something that needed to be said."

"Yeah, well, you've said it. You have no idea what you're talking about, but you got your say. Now just keep on doing whatever the fuck it is you're doing." Before he slammed the door closed, he let out a last, incredulous "Man!"

People were never good at handling the truth, were they?

When she came out of the side room, Garland and crew were gone.

"He seemed pissed?" Sunny asked En, clearly finding a bit of enjoyment in the fact.

En shrugged. "I told him what was what. Figured someone should."

Sourly, Melissa said to Leza, "You had the chance last night. But you were busy, right?"

"Hey," Leza promptly deflected, "This has, like, _nothing_ to do with me, okay?"

"No," Melissa grunted. "Nothing at all."

"Guys, please," En groaned. "You're giving me a headache." That, and En didn't want to risk Melissa running her mouth and telling Leza what had really happened. It was better this way. "Let's go eat something and just get to bed, okay? We've got a long day tomorrow."

"Unless you get your clock cleaned again," Melissa said with a smirk.

"Quiet, you. I'm gonna head straight to bed, I'm not very hungry."

"Yeah," Leza ageed. "Me neither."

"Well I'm gonna eat something," Melissa said. "Saw a nice-looking skewer stand just outside."

"We'll grab some too," Sunny said, "We can eat them in our room, right?"

"Sure," Ringo shrugged. "If they're not cold by then."

"Doesn't matter."

"You two still bunkin' together?" Melissa asked En, sounding like she didn't care much.

"I suppose. Unless you want to change, Leza?"

"No, no. I'm good?"

"Just sayin'," Melissa said to En. "If you need someone to talk to, some people might be a better choice than others."

"Um, what's that supposed to mean?" Leza snapped. "Why are you like, riding me, Melissa?"

"Maybe if the right people rode you every once in a while – "

"Hey!" En shouted. "Knock it off."

"Miss En is right," Ringo supported her. "Kitsch as this place is, it's still a chapel, and it's no place for arguments, especially if they're so vulgar in nature."

"Guys," En said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "Please don't start fighting. We all feel sad about Cliff, we're all tired. Let's not take it out on each other."

Melissa simply let out a disgruntled "Hmph", and Leza just said, "I'm going to the Lucky 38. To bed."

"I'll come with," En said. "You guys gonna be okay?"

Sunny smiled. "Sure. Have a good sleep."

"Yeah. Hope the headache's gone tomorrow."

"You coming, Ennie?"

"Just a minute. Hey priest dude?" she called to the chapel owner who just passed through.

"Mm?"

"Thanks for the service. I mean, we could tell you weren't used to it, but you did great." She fished in the pouch on her belt and dumped a few handfuls of caps on the altar. "Here you go."

The priest made a short bow and said, "Appreciate it. Have a safe journey."

En walked back to the Lucky 38 with Leza at her side.

"Um... you have any idea what crawled up Melissa's ass all of a sudden?"

En had a perfectly good idea, but she simply said, "She bunked with Meyers, he got along better with her than with the rest of us. Kinda normal that she's a bit unpredictable right now."

"I guess... Still feels like there's something more going on though?"

"Nah, that's just your imagination. She's just angry at the world right now."

"Uh, at the world except everyone but me?"

"Look, Leza," En said, taking care to sound final. "Melissa's not the type to talk about her feelings, and sometimes, when they get too much, she just... vents at someone." En felt kinda bad telling things about Melissa that weren't even true, but this was for the best. "Don't take it personally, she's just sad about Cliff."

"Mm." After a short silence, she changed the subject, "So like, what happens tomorrow?"

En was glad for the change of topic. "Tomorrow we head to Lake Mead and dive for that plane. And we swing by the Crimson Caravan."

"Why was that again?"

En grinned. "The Boomer dude who had the hots for some redhead or other?"

"Oh." She giggled. "Right."

"Be nice to bring some romance into the world after today." She meant it.

"Totally."

They walked the rest of the way to the Lucky 38 in silence and rode the elevator up. En was too tired to brush her teeth, kicking her boots off and flopping straight into bed. Even taking her skirt and shirt off took ages, and she did it lying down while Leza was in the bathroom, probably removing her make-up and all that stuff. It was kinda stupid. If she didn't put it on in the morning, she wouldn't have to take it off in the evening. And she looked just as gorgeous with make-up as without. Meh, whatever.

Arduously, she rolled under the blankets. Headache, sadness, tiredness and all, the sensation of lying in a clean bed was something she didn't mind taking the time for to savour.

The faucet in the bathroom stopped running and Leza trudged into the room, dropping herself on the bed the same way En had done. "Sleeping's gonna be like, best thing ever?"

"You said it."

"So hey."

"Mm?"

"I know it's not really the time, but tomorrow...?"

"_Yes_, Leza?"

"Well..." Leza rolled over to face her. "We _are_ gonna take advantage of the fact that we're near a lake in the summer sun, right?"

Ahhh, that's what she was about. En grinned despite her tiredness. "Sure. I need to go in the water anyway, might as well make a day of it."

"Hee, awesome."

Giddy as a schoolgirl.

"My head hurts, so I'm gonna sleep now, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

En closed her eyes. "Awh shit."

Leza noticed it too, but she kept silent, hoping En would deal with the problem.

"You got into bed last."

With a grumble, Leza clambered out of bed and stomped to the light switch.


	63. Out of Control

**SIXTY-THREE**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 18****th**

**8:43**

Hm, seventeen minutes before the alarm clock went off. Despite her headache, En felt pretty awesome at that. Waking up naturally before the alarm was always nicer, and it meant she could just snooze for a bit, just thinking those incoherent thoughts you had when you were in bed with your eyes closed, half asleep and rolled in your blankets. And even the headache wasn't that bad anymore. It was still very much present, but the pounding in her head had diminished to a merely bothersome pulsing. She really hoped she'd be rid of it one day.

She hadn't had any bad dreams, even though she'd dreaded to get them when she fell asleep, and that was a relief. She'd finally managed to get rid of the sight of Meyers' dead face in her mind's eye half an hour after Leza had turned off the light, and she'd slept, all things considering, remarkably well.

Her stomach was growling and her bladder ached, but she was determined to keep enjoying the snoozing. She wondered how everyone was, back home, and she was surprised at the feeling she got: as if those memories were of a past life, a life she'd been told stories about rather than experienced herself. Crazy how things could be so distorted even after a month and a half.

_Beep_

_Beep beep beep beep beep_

_Beep beep beep beep beep_

Ugh, rise and shine.

Leza's nasal groan came from the other side of the bed. "Eèèèhhh, Ennie turn that off?"

En clawed for her Pip-boy with her eyes closed and pressed random buttons until the beeping stopped. Then she groaned, "Good morning."

"Like, for you maybe?"

"I've slept worse."

Indignant, Leza whined, "You _snored_."

"Did _not_."

"Tch, you were asleep idiot, you couldn't know?"

En didn't feel like having this conversation, so she just got up, grabbed her clothes and trudged to the shower in her undies. Watkins' face was completely buried in her pillow anyway.

She had a quick shower and packed her backpack while Leza washed. Down to her last clean underwear again, but the bathroom of her suite had a small washing machine, so that was no biggie. And it wasn't like she'd be wearing underwear today. Oh no, not today. Not regular undies today. Over her not-undies went the stealth suit. If anything, it's temperature-regulation could be useful. She had to remember to bring the rebreather too, otherwise it'd be a pretty pointless trip. The ballast packs were stashed in Sunny and Ringo's room, and he and Melissa could carry those. They were heavy as Hell.

She grinned to herself when she heard Leza sing in the shower. It was still almost impossible to believe that the airhead with the annoying nasal speaking voice could sound so clear and pleasant when she sang. And then the whole enchantment of Leza's singing was broken when the sound of modest but audible snorting of snot came from the bathroom.

En shook her head and laced her boots.

Waiting for Leza to cake herself with make-up was a waste of time, so she went down for breakfast. Melissa and Ringo were downstairs already and En didn't need three guesses to know where Sunny was.

"Morning, miss En," Ringo said without looking up from his coffee. "Did you get some rest?"

"Morning. I did actually, slept pretty alright. Hey Melissa."

"G'day."

Breakfast was spent talking about this and that, with everyone seeming to do their best to steer away from the topic of Meyers, and succeeding pretty well, even though they were all heavy-hearted, En could tell. Leza came down a few minutes after, and Sunny, while she was last, actually managed to come down on her own without the need of a bucket of water or a cherry bomb next to her ear.

After the short but filling breakfast, they set out, walking first out of the Strip, and then through Freeside. The atmosphere was relaxed, but it was obvious that everyone was working hard to stay upbeat, and it all got a bit of a forced feel. En walked with Melissa, Sunny and Ringo walked together with Cheyenne trotting beside them, and Leza walked on her own, for once not rambling on and on in everyone's ears.

"Crimson Caravan," Ringo announced, pointing at the walled compound across the broken street. "We were supposed to stop here, correct?"

"M-hm," En said. "To play matchmaker."

"Right."

They walked into the compound through an arch in the wall and found themselves in a courtyard, surrounded by two or three barracks. "I'm going to say hello to a few people," Ringo said. "Need to tell them about Tina and Chipper too."

Dang, she'd forgotten all about that, Ringo's fellow caravaneers that had gotten killed around the same time En had eaten a bullet. He hadn't mentioned them much but when he did, it was clear they'd been close.

"Okay, take your time."

"I'm gonna go pee?" Leza announced. En wasn't even listening.

"Um," Melissa said. "Does that chick know she's sweepin' the dirt?"

A young woman with red hair stood in a cattle enclosure, indeed sweeping a broom across the ground.

"I bet that's the one Jack told us about," En said. "Though I have no idea why she's sweeping out there." She called out, "Uh, miss?"

The young woman raised her head. "Oh, hello."

En didn't really know how to ascertain that this was indeed the girl Jack had been gushing about. "Errr... are there more women here who look like you?"

"Uh... no. Why?" she asked, her freckled face growing suspicious. En couldn't blame her, it had been a daft question.

"You ever seen a guy oglin' you with binoculars?" Melissa asked flatly, not beating around the bush.

"I... why do you want to know?" She held her broom tight in both hands, as if ready to start swinging if she was attacked.

"Don't worry," En said. "We just wanna deliver a message."

She relaxed visibly. "Oh?"

"Yeah. There's someone who'd like to meet you. Have you ever heard of the Boomers?"

At that, she suddenly became much less wary. "It's the guy from the air force base, right? Whenever I take the Brahmin outside the walls, I see light reflecting off binoculars." She got more and more keyed up. "So I took a pair of my own and looked back, you know, from inside, so he couldn't see me, and, well..."

Even though En wasn't in the mood for giddiness, she asked, "... Yes?"

The girl's eyes lit up even more. "He's _totally_ dreamy."

En supposed the guy was handsome enough, in a baby-faced way, but 'dreamy' might have been pushing it a bit. Still, if this girl thought so, so much the better. "Well, he's dying to get to know you. So if you wanna – "

"Where do I go?"

En quickly showed her the way on her Pip-boy. "Right there. The Boomers know not to blow you up on sight, so you should be able to get through okay. If you wanna play it safe though, stand outside the perimeter and wait for him to come get you. I'm sure he'll keep an eye out."

The girl giggled and made a bounce. "Great, I'll go right now, and Alice can kiss my ass." She checked when she realized what she'd said. "Well, you know, not really _kiss my ass_, but you know."

"Yeah," Melissa said flatly. "We know."

"Um, yeah. Bye."

She set the broom against the fence and just ran off, with nothing but the clothes on her back.

"Well, she literally dropped everything and took off," En remarked.

"Yuh. Got a bright future ahead of 'em, I s'pose."

"Tch, they don't even know each other."

Melissa slapped En's shoulder. "Don't be such a cynic. People don't _need_ to know each other when they look at each other like that."

"Through binoculars?"

Melissa gave an impatient look. "You know what I mean."

"I s'pose. Wouldn't be the first couple to fall in love at first sight."

"Mm."

"Miss En, hold out your money pouch, please?"

Ringo and Sunny had come back to stand beside her. "Oh. Uh, why?"

"The Crimson Caravan still owed me remuneration from the caravan job. That it was raided by bandits doesn't forfeit my right to payment."

"Oh, right, but... your friends?"

He nodded. "I've withdrawn two thirds for Tina and Chipper's family. I'll contribute the rest to the community treasury. It was, after all, Sunny and you who helped me escape Goodsprings."

"You don't have to, I mean, there's plenty of – "

"I insist, miss En," Ringo said, gently but firmly.

"Well... okay." En held out her caps bag and Ringo dumped a handful into it. "Thanks, I guess?"

"Pee's done, guys," Leza announced, joining them. She'd taken the opportunity to rearrange her hair – of course – and refill a few water bottles.

"Okay, we ready?" En asked. Nobody claimed the contrary. "Kay, let's roll."

As they made their way back to the gate of the Crimson Caravan stockade, a loud ruckus made them turn their heads. The door of one of the barracks flew open, and a pale-haired woman in her fourties, wearing a woman's suit was propelled out the door.

"Oh boy," Sunny remarked. "Figured it'd come to that."

"Huh, what?" En asked.

The woman had ended her flight through the door by crashing through the flimsy wooden railing of the steps and now lay on the ground, ailing.

"Shouldn't we – ?"

"No," Ringo cut her off. "I suspect it's just comeuppance."

The door clapped open again, and out came a familiar figure: a slender young woman with a ginger ponytail and a taco-shaped straw hat. At her heels followed a man with a light beard and trench coat.

Cass marched towards the woman in the suit, and without hesitation, swiftly kicked her in the ribs. Her foot drew back and another kick whacked right into the woman's face.

"Oh geez, that's brutal," En winced. "Come on, whatever it is, we should break it up, right?"

"Yeah, totally," Leza breathed.

"I'm just glad that chick is kickin' someone _beside_ you," Melissa only remarked.

Another kick smacked the woman in the side of the head. Just when En made to get over there and help, Garland took Cass by the shoulder and pulled her back. Cass shrugged his hand away and kicked out again but this time Garland grabbed her again and her foot just grazed the woman's shoulder.

Cass and Garland exchanged words, Garland calm and composed, Cass agitated and loud. En couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but she could guess what it was about. There were more words exchanged, and finally Cass turned back to the fallen woman, gave her a long hard glare, and they began walking, coming towards En and her friends, and more importantly for them, the gate.

"What the fuck was that about?" En asked to no one in particular.

"Alice McLafferty isn't always forthright in her business," Ringo answered regardless. "Quite a few people have already gone on record saying they'd deliver some physical pain to her if given the chance."

"Still, kicking a defenceless woman, damn."

Melissa shrugged. "Cass is just as much woman as that other one is. Okay, maybe a bit less."

"I thought you hated her for hurting poor little me?"

"I do. But gotta stay rational, yeah?"

The two walked up to, and past them, Garland just saying, "Oh, hey," and Cass only giving them a muttered, "Yo." Her denim jacket was sprayed with blood.

With that, they just walked out of the Crimson Caravan stockade.

"Leave her," Ringo said when En looked at the fallen woman. "I don't know what our temperamental friend's reasons were but in this case, they were probably valid."

"Fine... I guess." It wasn't her business anyway, really.

"Um, Ennie?"

"Mm?"

"Why are we like, wasting time! The beach is waiting!"

Oh yeah. "The beach". Leza had been talking about how excited she was about "a day at the beach". En had kept it to herself that Lake Mead was probably a polluted toilet of a lake and its shores were most likely littered with rubble and trash. Maybe because she also hoped it'd be a nice place to spend the day. Well, they'd know soon enough. "You're right, Leza. No point wasting time."

On they went, to the Northeast, towards Lake Mead. The lake itself, Sunny and Ringo told her, had been formed by the construction of Hoover Dam, long ago, even before the last Great War, before the battle with the Chinese. Whoever "the Chinese" had been. En knew how a dam worked, and she supposed it made sense that it'd form a lake upstream.

Hoover Dam had been a contested place, to say the least. Currently it was held by the NCR, who'd beaten back a Legion attack even though their numbers were far smaller, by a combination of explosives set as traps and snipers picking off Legion commanders. The Roman-wannabes had fallen into disarray and they'd been slaughtered, caught in a bowl and unable to escape, with explosives going off everywhere. The Legion Legate responsible for the botched attack had apparently been covered in boiling pitch, set on fire, and thrown down a hillside to die. En supposed that was a good thing: if Legion idiots killed each other, so much the better.

The whole explanation of the battle for Hoover Dam took up most of the walk, with Ringo elaborating about people in the NCR that had survived the battle or been killed by it, and Leza asking the occasional ignorant question in between. Melissa kept silent, but the military triumphs of the NCR weren't exactly a subject she loved to hear about.

It was around one in the afternoon when they arrived at Lake Mead, and god dammit if Leza's hopes hadn't been founded. They were cresting a hill, and En could clearly see the lake in the distance, and it looked pretty damn great, the water as clear as it got in this part of the Wastes, and the shores mostly tidy, if neglected. There was a small collection of barracks and a jetty at the shore closest to them, probably the remains of a camping ground or some other vacation venue.

But just when En thought they'd be able to just stroll down and enjoy the lakeside, Cheyenne's ears went flat and she issued a low growl.

"What's the matter, girl?" Sunny asked.

Cheyenne let out a silent, stifled bark in response.

"Best be careful," Melissa said. "Dogs can hear and smell danger before we do, and they're rarely wrong."

Sunny took out her pistol but couldn't resist adding, "Never wrong, in Cheyenne's case."

Leza licked her lips nervously and closed her fingers around the grip of her laser pistol. A lot of help she would be. En took the M-1 from her shoulder and checked the magazine. They'd bought a few rounds for it, not too many, but she didn't need many rounds. She hoped.

"There," Melissa pointed out. "Oh frak. We best go around."

En peered to where Melissa had pointed and saw several creatures zipping back and forth in the skeleton of an old hangar, next to the camp site. They looked like oversized mosquitoes, some with bodies the size of a small dog, others larger, probably human-sized if you counted the legs. Still, they were just bugs, right?

"Cazadores," Ringo grunted. "This is most dire."

'Most dire', whatever. She'd be able to pick them off long before they got to the top of the hill. They were at least two hundred metres away, and that was a very comfortable distance. "We're far enough, aren't we?"

Melissa, Sunny and Ringo turned their heads at her slowly.

"These things don't mess around, jillaroo," Melissa said, sounding almost indignant. "They're so fast, they'd be here in seconds if we started shooting now."

En shrugged. "They're just bugs, aren't they?"

"Uh, no, sweetie," Sunny said. "They're monsters. A few of them can take down a deathclaw if they want to."

"And they're fiercely territorial," Ringo added. "If you wish to dive from there, you'll be dead before you can even start holding your breath."

"Geez, don't be dramatic. What are they gonna do, suck my blood until I die?"

"No," Sunny said grimly. "They have stingers in their tails, like knives with serrated edges. They'll punch through your leather like it wasn't even there."

"An' then," Melissa continued, "provided you survive the stab, you'll die in a matter of seconds, in excruciatin' agony while their poison turns your inside into a bubblin', liquefied mess."

"Melissa's not exaggerating," Ringo concluded. "Their poison is highly corrosive as well as venomous. It's a fast but unimaginably horrible death."

"They'll still die when you shoot them, right?"

"Yeah," Melissa admitted. "_If_ you can hit 'em. They move extremely fast."

"Okay," En conceded. She had to accept the fact that if these people thought those bugs were a nightmare, they were probably right. "So... anyone bring any bug spray?"

To everyone's surprise, Leza took off her backpack and rummaged in it, producing a miserable little aerosol, holding it with a stupidly guilty face. "Good luck?"

There was a moment of silence, and then a short burst of uncomfortable laughter.

"So what do we do?" En asked, returning to seriousness. "My pip-boy map seems to be clear that the plane's on this side of the lake. So we need to get rid of those things, right?"

Ringo nodded gravely, looking down at the camp site. "Explosives might do the trick, but we can't get them there unless we get too close, and that defeats the purpose."

"And even if we had some throwables," Sunny said, "we can't throw them that far and expect them to land where we want them to."

"If we set fire to the building somehow?" Leza suggested, more to say something than to actually provide a useful idea.

"No," Melissa said regardless. "Too slow. They'll be on us before the buildin's even good an' well caught fire."

"Sunny, do they stay active all day?" Ringo asked.

"Oh yeah, and even at night they're alert. They're worst at dusk and dawn, but can't count on them to be lethargic or anything at any hour."

"Lake not an option?" En ventured.

"Hm-m," Melissa said. "Sometimes people try to escape from them by divin', but they can sting just below the water's surface, and if you go deeper, they just follow until you come up for air."

"Dang it."

"YOU'RE WEARING ME, REMEMBER?"

It had been a long time since she'd worn Stel, and yeah, she'd forgotten all about the suit. "I am, but three and a half minutes isn't a long time, and even when I'm down there, not much I can do, is there?"

"Mm?" Sunny asked.

"Nothing, nothing," En said quickly, gesturing to the earwig in her ear. Sunny muttered an understanding, "Oh."

"I WAS JUST REMINDING YOU IN CASE I COULD BE USEFUL."

"That's great of you," En said back, "but unless you have a flamethrower hidden in your sleeve somewhere, there's not much you can do."

"YOU _DO_ STILL LIKE ME, DO YOU?"

"Uh... of course I do." You weirdsauce clingy suit.

"OKAY." The reply sounded cheerful enough.

"Hey wait a sec, wait a sec," Melissa said quietly, motioning for everyone to hunker down. "Look there."

"Oh ho ho," Sunny cheered quietly, "that's handy."

There was a pack of coyote-like creatures quietly stalking the ruined hangar from the south. But they weren't actual coyotes, their heads were... strange.

"Night stalkers," Sunny explained. "They're rarely active during the day, except when they're terribly hungry. And they _love c_azador eggs."

"So that means," Ringo said, "They're about to do our job for us?"

Melissa had an evil grin on her face. "Oh yeah. Ace."

"Not sure they know what they're getting into though," Sunny said, peering through her loaner glasses. "Cazadores are mean dudes."

"Well, at the very least," En said, lifting up the Garand again, "We can take advantage of the fighting to take them out, right?"

"Risky proposition," was all Ringo had to say about that.

"Got a better idea?"

"... I do not."

"Definitely won't get another chance at this," Melissa pointed out. "So if we're gonna do it, gotta decide now."

"I can do this," En said confidently, peering through the scope she'd welded onto the Garand. "Keep my other gun ready." She was referring to the XM-21. Reloading would take too much time, better to just switch weapons.

The night stalkers were slowly approaching the wrecked hangar. It was now that En noticed why their heads were so strange... they looked like oversized snake heads with the muzzle shape of a coyote. What the Hell? And their tails ended in a strange bony construction, like a rattlesnake's tail. In fact, _exactly like_ a rattlesnake's tail. En knew there were plenty of creatures that had mutated because of the radiation after the Great War, but this couldn't be the result of radiation. They looked like the work of a legit mad scientist.

"What kind of weird things are those?" En muttered.

"No one really knows," Sunny explained, "but yeah, as you can see, they're some kind of cross between a rattler and a coyote. Never seen a live one up close, because yeah, most people don't live to tell that particular tale."

"Well, we're about to see who's the toughest," Melissa imparted.

"Kinda feels like putting two spiders in a shoebox and seeing who survives, you know, when you're a child," En said, focused on the night stalkers' approach to the hangar.

"You did that?" Leza asked, indignant. "That's like, horrible."

"Meh, you know. Kids."

The night stalkers had gotten close, almost to the destroyed wall of the hangar. They had their name for a reason, En observed, because they still hadn't alerted the cazadores. They moved slowly, with determined steps, their freaky snake heads low.

Then it happened. The four night stalkers exploded into action, throwing themselves at the cazadors in powerful and lightning-fast bounds. The cazadores were just as quick to react, turning to face their attackers. One of the snake-coyote-hybrids took down a small cazador, sinking its fangs between the insect's exoskeleton plates even as the cazador's stinger stabbed its attacker repeatedly in the side. The three other stalkers weren't so dubiously lucky, one only grazing its target, and the other two missing their leaps outright as the cazadores zipped to the side.

There were four night stalkers, and from what En could see, at least five cazadores. Not exactly a very even fight, and the fight had to stay even as long as possible, because she didn't doubt for a second that the survivors would focus on the source of the gunfire next.

"Get 'em, jill!" Melissa told her.

"Yep."

She lined up the biggest, meanest cazador in her sights and fired. As her finger pulled the trigger though, the cazador dodged another leap from the night stalker and the creepy hybrid caught the bullet meant for the cazador in the torso, whacking it to the side in mid-leap, blood and bone blowing out with the bullet.

"Supposed to even the odds, jill, not tip 'em further," Melissa grunted.

"I know, I know." En licked her lips as she clacked the bolt, loading a new round into the chamber. The four remaining cazadores ganged up on the remaining night stalkers, trying to stab them with their stingers, the night stalkers dodging the attacks and grudgingly retreating. This short moment of deadlock was ideal. En lined up the big cazador again and fired. This time she struck true, the bullet striking the cazador in the midsection, completely obliterating it and tearing the bug straight in two.

"That's better," Ringo remarked flatly.

En clacked the bolt again and fired, taking down another cazador. Meanwhile, the two remaining ones had gotten hold of one of their prey, stinging it over and over as the beast writhed and struggled to find a place to bite back the insects but failed.

En fired again, but her shot went wide as the two cazadores switched targets and promptly stung the last night stalker to death. Freaks or not, En actually felt bad for the poor monsters being so horribly butchered. Setting her jaw, she fired again, but her shot only tore a hole in the cazador's wing membrane.

"Take your _time_, Ennie," Leza scolded.

"Shut up I'm trying to concentrate."

"Ah shit they've noticed us," Sunny exclaimed, her voice sounding near panic. "Shoot them, En, shoot them!"

"I'm _trying_!" En fired again, but with everyone shouting in her ear, she was too hasty and the shot sent chunks of tile flying up where it hit. "Shit, other gun!" she rapped at Melissa, who was already holding it out, her face calm but her eyes nervous.

"Here they come," Ringo announced, holding up Melissa's old MP.

Sunny barely had time to say, "Oh man," before the things were too close for talking. En squeezed off a hasty shot but hit nothing. Then Hell broke loose beside her as everyone discharged their weapons at the same time, on one side the MP and Sunny's pistol barked, and on the other side, the P90 tore through its entire magazine in two or three seconds.

The bullets hit, and one cazador was torn to shreds by the combined salvos, but the other kept coming at them despite several holes in its abdomen that leaked yellow liquid.

"Cheyenne! Cheyenne! _No_!" En heard Sunny scream, but it was too late. The dog had already decided her mistress was threatened, and she took off, bolting for the cazador at top speed. "Stay! Stay! _No!_"

"Shit, shit, I'm out," Melissa shouted.

"Shoot it, shoot it!" Sunny screamed hysterically, trying to get a fresh clip in her pistol but not succeeding in her haste and panic. Ringo dropped the MP and reached for his pistol, but he'd be far too late. En desperately took aim, but as Sunny again screamed, "Kill it En! _Kill it_!", she tension again threw off her aim and she missed. Ringo unloaded his entire clip at the thing, but the distance and the rate of fire made him wildly inaccurate, and he missed everything, apart from one round, that struck the cazador in the abdomen, again doing pitiful damage.

"ADMINISTERING TRANQUILLIZER."

Cheyenne threw herself at the cazador, her weight knocking the bug back, but then the monster's stinger lashed out. Cheyenne and the creature landed on the ground and Cheyenne rolled through, the beast's sting missing her spine by a few centimetres.

"Oh god oh god!" Sunny wailed. En took aim again, but Cheyenne leapt up at the cazador, blocking her shot. The stinger lashed out again, but Cheyenne managed to dodge it again with a lucky side-step of her back legs. Again En tried to take aim, but again Cheyenne blocked her shot. Sunny fired the three remaining bullets in her last clip, and missed everything.

The cazador was on the offensive now, knocking Cheyenne over and trying to sting her unprotected belly. En fired again, steadied by the tranquillizer Stel had shot in her veins without asking, her shot striking true and blowing the cazador's guts out, but still the bug wouldn't give up.

She'd never be able to load another round. Cheyenne was done for.

The cazador, its guts hanging out, hung over Cheyenne, and it would use its last but of strength to stab the brave dog to death, making her die a horrible, painful death as its corrosive venom destroyed her from the inside.

Melissa took off, running full-speed at the cazador and Cheyenne in a last-ditch brave but ultimately useless attempt to save the poor dog from its fate, her boots kicking up dust. "Melissa! No!"

Cheyenne lay pinned underneath the cazador, struggling but to no effect, and the insect drew its abdomen back to administer the final blow. And there was nothing they could do. Melissa would never reach them in time, and even then, what would she do? Die along with Cheyenne? Panic took over, even with the tranquillizer fighting it, and En could only stand there, nailed to the ground like the rest of them. Oh god oh god oh god.

The sound of air burning crackled into En's ear, and an orange beam zapped the cazador straight in the head, slicing through its brain and compound eyes with immense heat.

The cazador hung in the air for a few more moments, then gently hovered to the ground as its wings slowed and finally stopped.

All heads turned to Leza, standing there with her laser pistol awkwardly in both hands and a mortified look on her face.


	64. Near the Water

**SIXTY-FOUR**

**Lake Mead**

**July 18****th**

**13:11**

"Oh my God," Leza breathed. "Like, I got it."

Cheyenne cheerily leapt to her feet and darted back up the hill, past Melissa and to her mistress.

"Yeah, you did," En said. "Well god damn, Annie Oakley."

Sunny was almost bowled over by her own dog, leaping into her arms like an overjoyed child, but she did manage to say, "Yeah, good shootin'!", after which she started making kiddie voices at Cheyenne. "Who's a good girl? Who's a brave girl? You are! Yes, you are!"

En, and everyone else including Leza, knew it was a case of crazy-ass luck, but still, they all seemed content to pretend it had been pure shooting skill.

"Fine shooting, miss Watkins," Ringo contributed.

With a snort, Melissa grunted, "Pure luck yeah." Seemed they didn't all want to pretend.

Leza giggled and said, "Luck or not, the result's what matters?"

"Yeah," En said. "And there's no Meyers to shoot in the leg now." Oh shit, that had been out before she knew it. Oh dammit.

A leaden feeling fell over the group, as heavy as the scorching mid day sun but far less bright. Ugh she'd put her foot in her mouth right there. Dammit dammit.

"I'm sure the sheriff would have approved of that shot," Ringo said at length.

"Yeah," Sunny said quietly, still rubbing Cheyenne's cheeks. "Thanks, Leza, you saved Cheyenne. Meyers would have been proud of you."

Leza chuckled uncomfortably. "Let's... not talk about this right now."

"Yeah," En said. "Um... I didn't mean to..."

"Salright," Melissa said. "We shouldn't dwell on it too much but that dun' mean we should act like it never happened."

Yeah, she was right. "Yeah, you're right."

"Guys!" Leza shook everyone out of their lethargy. "Down there is the _beach_."

Damn straight, the beach. Diving for five thousand dollars, fuck yes!

They all went down the hillside, still wary for any creatures or villains lurking in the ruined resort, but there were none. The scene inside the hangar was pretty grisly, the cazadores either blown apart or crushed between the fangs of the night stalkers, and said night stalkers lying dead beside them, their bodies punctured by stab wounds from the overgrown instects' stingers. Parts of their remains, the tissues around the stings, appeared to have liquefied, turned to reddish-brown sludge leaking from their bodies. That cazador venom looked every bit the nightmare her friends had described it as. En shuddered and turned her head away. "We should uh, set up at a distance. Don't feel like seeing butchered animals every time I turn my head."

Leza nodded, "Totally."

"There's a little bay right there," Sunny pointed out. "Right behind that jetty. Where's your pip boy say it was?"

En checked again. "Pretty close to that bay, actually."

"Hm. Convenient," Melissa remarked.

"Yeah, you'd almost think someone set it up that way to make it easy for us."

The bay itself was a quiet and idyllic strip of sand. It looked like those beaches in pre-War travel magazines. Awesome. "Okay, guys, this is totally cool."

"Yeah, it is," Sunny agreed. "How 'bout we relax here for a bit?"

"My thoughts exactly," Ringo said.

"Tch_yeah_," Leza added. "We're at the beach and we're gonna make a day out of it!"

Melissa said nothing, and just parked her ass on the sand.

Sunny and Ringo were less nonchalant, Ringo taking off his jacket and spreading it on the sand for them to sit on.

Leza, meanwhile, had taken off her leather-and-metal jacket and thrown it on the ground. When she unbuttoned her pants, Sunny said, "Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Changing?" Leza merely chirped.

"In front of us?" Melissa asked sceptically. "Yeah, I'll believe that in a heartbeat."

"Um, like, I came prepared?"

As she took the rebreather out of her backpack and uncrumpled it, En had to grin when she realized Leza had thought the same thing she had this morning, underwear-wise. Leza hooked her thumbs around her pants and took them down, taking care to wiggle her ass as she did so. The yellow bikini bottom wiggled along with it.

"You brought a bikini?" Sunny asked, her tone a mix of disapproval and envy.

"Uh, _yeah_?"

"Shit," Melissa said. "Count on you to have your priorities straight."

"C'mon," Leza whined as she took her shirt off, doing all the effort she could to make everyone except Ringo green with envy. Damn, En would look like a scarecrow next to her, with her sexy yellow bikini and her perfect curves.

"_I_ am going for a swim," Leza announced. "I've been waiting to do this for days?"

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Melissa said. "There's flesh-eating fish in the water around here."

Leza's face briefly looked like she believed it, but then she grinned and said, "Tch, you don't fool me." And with that, she walked to the water, making sure her butt swayed as sexily as possible.

Even though it wasn't appealing to be compared to stupid sexy Watkins, En had a job to do, and that job meant taking off her own clothes too. She let her jacket drop to the sand and unlaced her boots, kicking them off and taking her pants off after them so she stood in her stealth suit. Stel had temperature regulation, true, but god dammit, she wasn't about to let Watkins stop her from catching some sun herself. So she zipped open the stealth suit.

"Whoa, sweetie," Sunny protested. "Change behind a rock or something, it's uh, not appropriate with a man present."

En grinned and let out a snort. "I'm not naked under this, Sunny. I was thinking the same thing Watkins did this morning." She slithered out of the stealth suit and closed her eyes for a second as the sun fell warm on her skin.

"I can't believe you two," Sunny grunted. "You could have told us it was partly a pleasure trip. I would've brought swimwear too."

"Y'know what?" Melissa said. "I'd just like to say that I like the way jillaroo looks much more than our blonde siren there." Leza, meanwhile, was dipping her toe in the water and pulling it back out, making a little yelp when she felt how cold it was. "Least you're wearin' somethin' modest."

She was. No skimpy bikini for her, she left that to the Watkinses of the world.

Sunny shrugged. "You can be a bit more daring when you choose bikinis, no? This black sports bikini thing's a bit boyish."

Ringo only briefly chimed in to say, "Let it be clear that I have no opinion on either choice of swimwear whatsoever."

"Yes, Sunny," En said, "It's not a drool-worthy thing like Watkins', but I need it to dive, not to show off with." She was perfectly aware that her sports bikini was boring and wholesome, and she was fine with it. She already had the 'boring' black bikini with its three white stripes on the sides for years, and she was perfectly cool with it.

"Now then," she said, "I'm gonna go for a swim. Test this thing and all."

"Enjoy," Melissa said. "I'm gonna sit here like a borin' old person."

"As are we," Ringo said. "Have a nice swim, miss En."

Her grin widening even further, En held a finger in front of her lips and then quietly sneaked towards Leza, who was still trying to conquer the water's coldness. She'd made it to ankle depth 'already'.

On her toes, En crept towards Leza, her back still turned, and when she was close enough, she launched herself forward and with both hands, gave Leza a push as hard as she could. Leza yelped, staggered to the side, and tripping on her own feet, she fell headlong into the water.

"Eeyyagh!" she cried, crashing down into the lake and splashing up water. She thrashed for a few moments, then got back to sitting upright, promptly snatching at En.

"It's for your own good," En rapped, laughing, "It's the best way to get into cold w – hrk!"

She couldn't finish her sentence as Leza grabbed her forearms and pulled, sending her crashing down into the water next to her. The cold seemed to form a huge fist that crushed her ribcage, but she quickly got her footing back and came above water.

"I go down, you go down!" Leza scolded. "That was a mean-ass thing you did, Ennie?"

Laughing, En wiped the water from her eyes, standing up in the thigh-high water. "Thought you wanted to have fun."

"Bah, not at _my own _expense," Leza said sourly, letting herself slide into the water and slowly swimming to the deeper part of the Lake.

En followed, in a lazy breaststroke. It was nice to be swimming again. It had been ages. In fact, En couldn't really remember the last time she'd swum. Oh yeah, she could, during the school trip in her last year, at the beaches near San Francisco. All the boys had been staring at Allison in her swimsuit. Of course.

Leza had turned over and was floating on her back, doing the occasional slow backstroke. "Ahhhh," she groaned. "This is so awesome. I haven't swum in like, forever?"

"Me neither," En said, turning to float on her back too. The feeling of weightlessness was amazing, soothing her tired joints and muscles, and the sun warming her wet skin felt immensely relaxing. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on the bobbing motion of her body. "I could float here all day, I think." Even her headache had taken a back seat.

"So let's," Leza's voice came from beside her. "We're not in a rush or anything?"

"Suppose not."

"I'm gonna sink," Leza announced. And with that, she pinched her nose closed and blew out air so she gradually descended into the water, fully submerged, still blowing bubbles.

En thought it was a great idea, and she did the same, just letting the water swallow her and drown out all sight and noise and sensation. The cold water closed around her, cradling her and gently taking the tension out of her muscles. She didn't even feel she was holding her breath, so soothing was the water, until of course, her lungs started piping up that they needed oxygen. She enjoyed the water for a moment longer, then kicked her feet and went to the surface, coming up at the same time as Leza, who swept her blonde hair out of her face by throwing her head back and sending up a fan of water droplets. "Hooh," Leza breathed, "that was relaxing."

"Totally," En agreed, treading water opposite Leza, whose hair had been swept out of her face. And when Leza opened her eyes, En noticed why she always kept a lock over one eye: her left eyelid drooped terribly, holding the eye half closed even when the other was wide open. So that's why Veronica had made that lazy-eye joke. Crazy En hadn't noticed it until now. Even gorgeous as she was, the drooping eyelid made her look slightly mentally disabled. Leza had noticed En had seen it and she grinned. "Oh, the eye... I know."

"Uh... it's not that noticeable." Yeah _of course_ it was that noticeable.

"Tch, it totally is?" She shrugged her bare shoulders. "But yeah, you'd see sooner or later. Keep it to yourself though, 'kay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Let 'em all think I've got this hairstyle because I'm edgy and flashy. Which I am."

"Of course." She'd actually handled that rather well. En had half expected her to get her bikini bottom in a twist or to throw a tantrum, but nope, no purple faces had been forthcoming. So much the better. And she supposed it meant Leza trusted her significantly. For what that was worth.

En looked at her pip-boy, wiping the droplets from the screen as she treaded water. "Should be somewhere around here."

"What, the plane?"

"No, a bottle cap I dropped a few years ago."

Leza ignored the snarky answer. "I'll stay here, you go get, like, the gear?"

"Okay, just keep treading water right there," En said, swimming back in a clumsy crawl style. She hadn't swum very often, and it probably showed. She soon felt the sand under her feet and lurched out of the water, walking back to her friends, and the gear in the sand beside them.

"Enjoy your swim?" Sunny asked.

"_Oh yeah._" She picked up the rebreather and held it under her arm, grinning widely at her friends. "I'm about to bring five thousand caps to the surface. That's a pretty cool thought."

"I gotta say," Melissa said, "I haven't seen you look so happy in weeks. I mean genuinely happy." She'd taken off her vest and rolled up her pants to the knees.

"Yes, miss En," Ringo agreed. "Your grin looks like it's about to bisect your face. In the good way."

"An' to think I'd almost taken all that away from you," Melissa said with a sincere smile, though her eyes betrayed some guilt.

"Are you getting emotional on me, Melissa?" En teased.

"Maybe just a bit. But don't get used to it."

"I won't. I know how economical you are with your emotional moods."

"Good."

En twisted the lines of the ballast packs around her wrists so she could drag them out to the water behind her. "Well, see you in a sec."

"Be careful with those things," Sunny called after her as she plodded back into the water, the ballast packs dragging behind her. En gave her a thumbs-up without turning around.

She swam back to where Leza was treading water. The ballast packs tugged at her arm, so she swam doggies until she was close enough. "I should have brought diving goggles," she said to Leza when she figured out what she'd forgotten.

"Water's clear enough, right?"

"Yeah, but I still would have liked to see more than just blurred shapes. Ah well." She shrugged the rebreather on and opened the valves on the hoses that connected the mouthpiece and the air bag. Good thing she'd included those. It would have sucked if the rebreather had run full of water on the way here.

"Right, here I go?" she said, an edge of doubt creeping into her voice. It'll be alright, she told herself.

"Want me to dive with you, just in case?"

"Sure, but you won't get far without a rebreather. It's kinda deep I think."

"Oh. Then I'll just hover over you on the surface."

"Cool. Well, see ya!"

Leza smiled. "Break a leg!"

"Rather not."

And with that, she put the rebreather's mouthpiece where mouthpieces go, and dived. She saw nothing but blur at first, but she swam down (it was difficult when you couldn't dive off a ledge, and when there was a bag of air pulling you back up), and there it was, a green cross-shaped blur. The Lady.

She swam on against the upward pull of the rebreather's air bag, and pulled the first ballast bag to her, pulling the rope hand over hand until it was there. She vaguely perceived the bright red mark on the bag that indicated it as the top, and pushed the ballast up against the plane's wing, where it was set into the fuselage. She heard a dull _thunk_ as the magnets on the ballast bag found the metal of the plane. Great. She flicked the loop of string off her wrist. One more.

She swam over the plane's fuselage and pulled the other ballast bag over the plane as she went. She noticed she had to breathe more often and take deeper breaths. The air in the rebreather was getting polluted. She didn't have long. But she'd make it. No problem.

_Thunk_.

What the...?

She looked back at the plane's fuselage and saw the magnets had attached to the top of the hull when she'd pulled the bag over it. Aw, shit they weren't supposed to do that. She hoped the magnets weren't so powerful she couldn't get them off once they were attached. She swam back to the ballast and wrung her fingers under the bag, pulling with all her might.

Fuck, the things didn't let go. She gave another tug, but they didn't budge.

Dammit. Blowing the things might dislodge them, but if they did, they'd never get the Lady up. Crap, crap, crap. Breathing became more and more difficult, the air in her rebreather getting more and more polluted.

There had to be a way to get this off. She pulled again, but the bag was stuck. Dammit, back to the surface and try again. Find a way. Air was dirty and almost completely unbreathable. One more try. Setting her bare feet against the plane's hull and pulling with all her strength, she let out a bubbling growl, her teeth biting into the rebreather's mouthpiece. As her muscles screamed and her joints squealed, the magnets didn't give way. Drawing on strength she didn't know she had, she intensified her pull one last time, and the magnets came loose, sending her floating backward as the bag lazily tumbled in the water. She quickly grabbed it and guided it to the underside of the wing, where it stuck, in the right place this time.

She swam back up, holding her breath with the last of the rebreather's usable air in her lungs.

She swam, hurrying to the surface. She'd make it, no worries. No worries. She could see the sun, a disc of light rippling and distorting in the patterns of the water.

The line around her wrist went taut.

Right, the line attached to the ballast. She'd forgotten about that. But no problem, she just had to flick it off her wrist and she'd be good. But the loop around her wrist was snared tight. It must have tightened when she pulled the ballast off.

No, no, no no _no_!

She frantically pulled at the loop around her wrist, but she couldn't even get her fingers between the rope and her arm. Her feet kicking as panic rose, she tried to pull the knot loose with her nails, but they found no purchase. She kept plucking at the knot, trying desperately to get it undone, but it was too damn tight, and she couldn't see. Oh god oh god she was gonna die here, gonna drown in her boring and wholesome sports bikini, only metres from the surface. She pulled again, but the line held. Her eyes, open wide in panic, saw the vague shape of Leza at the surface, just treading water, waiting for her to surface.

_LEZA! LEZA HELP!_

The rebreather's mouthpiece popped out of her mouth, and an unending string of pearly bubbles rushed out, rising effortlessly to the surface as En remained where she was, held down by the line around her wrist.

Suffocating, she pulled furiously at the line, completely overtaken by panic now, but all she did was pull herself downward. She was going to drown, upside-down, her lungs filling with water and her last sight the beautiful sun, shining on the water's surface, everything above that surface oblivious to the dying child below.

Her panic was complete now, and yet, her mind was brutally clear. Her muscles still pulled the line, desperate to live, desperate to escape, and her mouth let out a bubbly cry of desperation underwater, but in her mind, she calmly realized she was going to die. Going to drown like a rat, anchored to five thousand caps at the bottom of the lake. She didn't even feel the pain in her arm as it furiously pulled the rope anymore, but she felt the spasming of her suffocating lungs all the more. You can't breathe water, but all her lungs wanted to do was open as wide as they could and pull in something, anything. They'd do it on their own now, filling themselves with water in their desperation for air. The water embraced her, uncaring that it turned from a harmless diversion into a cold grave.

_Pop!_

Only half conscious, she blew out a cluster of bubbles in surprise. The line had come loose!

Too panicked to wonder why it had happened, she furiously kicked her feet, propelling herself back to the surface as her lungs screamed for air. Just a little further! The sun was up there, and air, and her friends, and _life_!

She wouldn't make it. Oh God oh God so close and she wouldn't make it! No, no, _no_, she was not giving up!

She broke the surface of the water as her lungs opened and inhaled everything they could, including the water around her and the air she came up in. Thrashing wildly, she made a loud _hurrrkk_ sound as her lungs expanded, no longer able to contain their need to fill themselves.

"Holy shit Ennie!"

Her lungs contracted as quickly as they'd filled, pushing out her tongue, and she hacked up the water in them, puking it out so hard it felt like her lungs would come up through her throat with the water. Then her chest expanded again, sucking in more air, and another expectorating session followed. She was alive, she was _alive_! Breathing air, feeling the sun on her head!

"Ennie are you okay?"

The inhale-expectorate sequence was repeated a few more times before En could actually make any other sound than that of wheezing in air and hacking out water, and she managed to hack, "Almost... almost drowned."

"Oh my God what happened?"

Still coughing, she held up her wrist with the line attached to it. "Got stuck."

"Geez, Ennie."

"Yeah," she coughed. "Geez indeed." Her lungs gradually settled down, slowly overcoming the shock at their near-death experience. They hurt like crazy, as did her throat and her head, but fuck that, she was _alive_!

"Can you swim back?"

She nodded jerkily. "I can manage. Oh man that was close." She pulled the line out of the water, and when she did, she saw that it ended with the metal eyelet that had been plugged into the canvas, now torn loose. Shit, she'd been insanely lucky. If that thing had held for a second longer... "Was stupid of me to just go down there on my own," she said hoarsely, her throat irritated from the hacking.

"Well, you made it back?"

"Almost hadn't."

"But you did," Leza said with a smile.

"Yeah. C'mon, let's head back and blow those ballast packs."

"Let's take our time though? I could swim all day."

"Yeah, I'm too tired to swim back at rocket speed anyway." The muscles in her chest and back felt overexerted, aching with a whining, constant pain. Well, at least that would go away after a while.

They splashed back to the shore, at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sun and the coolness of the water, En even more than Leza. Shit, she almost ate the big one there. She'd been lucky a few times already, and she realized full well that sooner or later, luck runs out. She felt the sand under her feet again and plodded out of the water.

"And?" Ringo asked. "Was your diving endeavour fruitful?"

"Yeah," En answered, her intercostals aching with every breath and every word. "But I almost hadn't made it back."

Sunny sat bolt upright. "What? What happened?"

"My own stupid fault," En explained. "Got stuck on the line I pulled the ballast with." She held up the length of rope. "Managed to pull it off the pack just in time."

"Death doesn't want you, jill," Melissa said with a grin. "You've even managed to piss _him_ off."

En had to chuckle at that, but she still said, "I won't dodge the bullet forever. Figuratively and literally." She sat down on the sand, realizing too late that now it'd stick to her butt and legs and would be a misery to wipe off. "I've got a little announcement to make."

Leza sat down next to her, so they were in a very loose version of a circle. "We're listening, sweetie."

This broke her heart, but... "Guys, you know I think you're all awesome, right?" She waited for a nod from them to continue. "So I'm counting on you to believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you guys, but I've... well, I've almost-died too many times since I took that package under my arm in New Arroyo. I know I'm at an age where you're supposed to feel all immortal and whatever, but I'm not an idiot. Sooner or later it's gonna be bull's eye. And..." she looked down at the sand. "... I'm not gonna wait for that to happen." She took a breath and said what she had to say. "After we blow those charges, I'm going to Vegas, collect our five thousand, divide it among us, and then..." she looked up at her friends, and the words felt both heartbreaking and liberating to say. "Then I'm going home."

Silence fell.

"Geez, guys!" En blurted out, embarrassed. "Say something, this is really awkward."

Melissa was the first to speak, nodding her head sagely. "I think it's not a bad decision. That House rotter is probably gonna try an' get you to do legwork for him as long as he can."

"And every job more deceptively dangerous than the next," Ringo added.

"What, so... this is the end?" Leza asked, sounding genuinely sad. "That sucks."

"It doesn't have to be the end," En said, slightly tense at the suggestion she was going to make, and the answers to it. She tried to sound as casual as possible. "I mean, whoever wants to can come back to New Arroyo with me?"

She really, _really_ hoped at least one or two people would say yes. It wouldn't be all of them, but she didn't want to have to say goodbye to _everyone._

There was a short silence, and Melissa broke it by asking, "Do you still consider me in your debt, jill?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then I'll have to say no. You're ace an' all but my place is here, y'know?"

It was to be expected, but still En's heart sank. Once the initial animosity had faded, Melissa had been awesome the whole journey long. "Oh... okay." She caught herself trying to make the disappointment sound through, in a vain hope that Melissa would reconsider.

"Won't ever forget your goofy ass though," Melissa said with a grin.

"You better not."

"Can we have some time to discuss it?" Sunny asked. "I think we both would love to stay with you for a bit longer, but we need to think about what our plans are together, and what's possible and what isn't."

In En's experience, 'can we think about it' usually meant they just wanted to postpone the 'no'. Still, pushing them wouldn't help. "Sure. We still need to go back to the 38 anyway." This time she didn't even have to try to make the disappointment in her voice audible.

"Let's be clear," Ringo said in an assuring tone, "that even if we decide not to come back with you, it won't be because we don't care about you, alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." And yet it felt like a personal rejection. And that Ringo was already speaking about the possibility and what it would or wouldn't entail, meant they were pretty decided already.

"What about you, blondie?" Melissa asked. "You're not gonna let poor jill trudge on home by 'erself, are ya?"

"Actually, I've been thinking," Leza said quietly. "I... should really go and make things right with the Brotherhood?"

Strike three. En's heart was leaden. She'd have to go home all alone. Home, to her friends and family, absolutely, but without any of the friends she'd made here.

"But," Leza said. "You said there was a Brotherhood chapter in your town, right?"

A flicker of hope. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave everyone behind in the end. "Yeah, a small one, but there is."

"Well, way I see it," she said, absently adjusting the elastic of her yellow bikini bottom, "The Mojave Brotherhood can totally not stand me, right? But if I can ask to transfer to new Arroyo, they'll be glad to get rid of me? Might even take me back, you know?"

"Yeah," En said, thinking. "They might. Well, how 'bout this. When we've got our caps, we swing by the bunker and try to negotiate your way back in. I'm sure they've forgiven you for that stupid laser pistol already."

"Well," she said sheepishly, "and all the other stuff I pulled."

"Whatever, they'll have cooled down by now. And then you can transfer to New Arroyo. And if they say no, you can always come back with me on your own, right? I could use a friend on the way home?"

Leza grinned. "That's like, emotional blackmail?"

"It isn't emotional blackmail if it's the truth," Ringo said gently. "I think it'd do you both good to travel together for a while longer." Yeah, that's it, Ringo, let the responsibility roll off you.

"Well, I'll come with you as far as the bunker," Leza said, "that's for sure. We'll see from there?"

"I guess that's as good as it gets, huh?" En said, still feeling disillusioned and morose.

"People can't make promises until they know how things will play out," Ringo said gently. She knew it was just the disappointment playing tricks on her, but she wanted to punch the condescending jackass in the mouth.

"Well," Leza announced. "I'm dry. Head on back?"

"Sure." When En looked up, she saw Ringo holding out the detonator. Shit, yeah, that. The deal was to bring the plane to the surface. "Thanks." She took the detonator and hit the red button. There was a low rumbling, and a few seconds later, the Lady surfaced in a white frothy eruption, first the cockpit and then the rest of the aircraft. It rested on the water, stately floating on the surface.

"Well, there it is," Sunny remarked. "Five thousand caps, sweetie."

"... yeah." Her mind was still with the whole journey back. She was pretty convinced she'd be going all alone. She couldn't blame them for not wanting to come. They'd only known each other for what, three weeks? It had been just under a month ago that she'd been shot. They were probably just footnotes in each other's lives if you thought about it.

Still sucked.

Silently, En put the stealth suit back on, zipping it closed, and then donned her leather gear over it. Ugh, that too. She wouldn't even have Stel to keep her company. Garland would want the suit back.

"Should we notify the Boomers?" Ringo asked, looking out at the plane, his hands in his sides.

"Nah," En said absently. "They'll be here in a day or two. They're assuming we pulled it off."

"Which you did," Sunny said with a smile. It was a transparent and clumsy attempt to make her feel better. She briefly felt Melissa's hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, let's head on back."

Yeah. Head on back to New Vegas one last time. And then, the long road back home. Back to her friends and family. It'd be a bittersweet journey, going back to people she loved, but leaving others behind.

God damn goodbyes.


	65. Roses and Wine

**SIXTY-FIVE**

**Freeside**

**July 18****th**

**21:01**

"Oi, jill."

"Mm?"

"Cheer up, yeah? You're goin' home."

"Yeah. Yeah I know... was just thinking."

"Bout how you'll miss us, right?"

They'd been picking them up and laying them down since their departure from Lake Mead, everyone thinking their own thoughts. En hoped at least some of them were thinking about what a shame it was that the trip was damn near over, but she knew she shouldn't harbour any illusions. These people were all considerably older than she was, the whole 'travelling with friends'-concept probably wasn't all that new to them.

"Yeah, Melissa. Of course I'm gonna miss you guys."

"We can still keep in touch?" Leza said, but everyone knew that people always said that, but never did.

"Well, at least we'll all have fond memories of our adventure, right?" Sunny said. Cheyenne barked in agreement. En _still_ suspected the dog of secretly understanding them.

"And," Ringo said, sounding surprisingly candid, "some of us will have more than memories at the end," clearly referring to Sunny, who responded by smiling broadly and throwing her arm over his shoulder.

He was right. Apart from poor Meyers, they'd be going home with more than just memories. For some it was just cash, for others it was more than that. And not keeping into account what had caused the whole journey in the first place, she did feel like she'd be going home with much more than she'd started with – and it wasn't just the cash. But again, discounting the whole cause of the adventure. Because if you included that, she was also going home with a neverending headache and the possibility of the occasional seizure. She didn't feel like making a balance of the whole thing.

And what wasn't even counting the lost innocence.

"But hey, hey," Leza said, trying to bring the good cheer back, "If this is, like, goodbye, then there's _no_ way I'm letting you guys go without one last night on the town?"

"Heh, now that was unpredictable," En laughed.

"What? We should totally end it in style?"

"Why the Hell not," Melissa said, grinning. "An' you two, you've got no excuse this time."

Sunny laughed. "Alright, alright, if it's our last evening together, might as well make it memorable."

"We'll have five thousand caps to spend," En reminded them. "I think I'll buy something scandalously expensive to drink."

"And you're buyin' use something equally expensive," Melissa commanded. "I'm gonna get dead drunk an' fuck the first thing I see that walks on two legs."

"Uh... shall I tell Veronica to bring the anti-chafing cream?"

"It doesn't always have to be Veronica. We'll see," Melissa replied casually. Right, En had forgotten. They were all 'free love'.

"I think I'll be a good girl tonight," Watkins said, surprisingly. "Wanna spend our last evening together, _together_, you know?"

"Yeah," En said. "Me too."

They scanned their passes at the Securitrons guarding the Strip's north gate and were promptly let in.

"Our last evenin' on the Strip," Melissa mused as they walked to the 38. Vegas was starting to get into the spirit, the street becoming gradually more crowded and the noise slowly swelling. Lights went on and the entire town slowly transformed into a carnival of light, sound, and people. Yep, En would take fond memories home. When she stood on the steps to the 38, she looked back at her friends and said, "I'm gonna go collect. Then we freshen up and go blow our caps?"

"Good plan," Melissa said. "Okay if I take the time for a nice bath?"

"Sure, yeah."

"I use your bathroom though? The room I shared with Meyers, well..."

Ringo and Sunny walked past her, "See you in a sec."

"Later, guys. And uh, sure, no problem."

"But I'm plugging the keyhole," Leza said, crossing her arms. "You're not getting a last-chance peek out of me?"

"I'll just have to use my imagination and the showerhead then," Melissa grinned.

Watkins' face briefly flared in indignation, but then she realized Melissa was egging her on again, so she opted for a wiser reply of, "I can't stop you from fantasizing?"

"Well, if you're gonna take a bath, Mel, get to it," En said. "Three women sharing a bathroom, it's gonna take ages if we don't hurry."

"Huh," Melissa said. "First time you called me Mel, there."

"I know. Figured if I can't abbreviate your first name by now, it'd be pretty bad."

Melissa passed her with a grin and went up the stairs. "You sook."

She was left with Leza on the steps. "Hey Ennie, thanks for taking me with you. It wasn't always easy, but I had a great time, all things considering."

"Me too, Leza." She meant it. "This whole trip was pretty awesome. Now come on, get yourself cleaned up."

"Gotta wait 'til Melissa's done. I'm gonna take a stroll, see what's playing in the casinos."

"Sure. Try not to die."

"Be stupid on the last day," Leza said with a grin as she turned, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. "See you in a bit."

"Yep."

She stood there for a moment longer, enjoying the falling evening, the lights and the fun, and allowing some melancholy to nestle on her shoulders. This had been a great trip. Sucked that it was over, but all things came to an end, and she was still alive, and her pockets would be bulging with caps. Not the worst way it could have ended.

She shook off the melancholy and headed inside, taking the elevator up to the penthouse level.

"Penthouse floor," Victor intoned with his tinny voice as the elevator door opened. Now there was someone she wouldn't miss.

"Hello young lady," Jane the robot greeted her, wheeling to stand in front of her. "Just a moment."

"Uh huh."

"Mr. House will see you now."

"Yeah."

She headed in, and there he was, for the last time. The smug, refined businessman face. "Miss Tessara."

"Heya, House-man."

She could hear him wince, just from the short silence that followed. Heh heh.

"I assume your presence hear means your contract is completed?"

"Yep. Brought their plane up to the surface. Will probably net you some goodwill. Fact that I made sure they know what kind of fucktards those Legion wackos are probably won't hurt either."

"Yes," he confirmed. "I have already had the news confirmed by an associate. Jane will remunerate you on your way out." He was quiet for a moment. "You've proven yourself dependable, if not very spectacular, in your execution of my assignments. If you'd like, there's more work I can give you?"

"Yeah, I'm _totally_ honoured," En snarked, "but no. I'm going home. It's been long overdue."

House let another brief silence fall, then said, sounding almost wistful, "Yes. I imagine you look forward to returning to New Arroyo."

"Yup. I assume you don't mind if we stay another night?"

"I will not even deduce any rent from your fee." How magnanimous.

"Awesome. Well, thanks for the caps, I s'pose. Later!"

"Farewell, miss Tessara. Oh, one more thing."

"Mm?"

"Have you seen your ill-mannered friend recently?"

"Garland? Uh, no. Not for a day or so."

"I see. If you run into him, send him over, would you? I just had confirmation that he fulfilled his assignment, so he'll receive the payment he's been waiting for."

"Gotcha."

And there he was, when she emerged from the elevator on the suite was holding his arm, and Arcade Gannon was following him, fussily telling him to hold still so he could change the bandages.

"Hey. You get hurt?" En asked.

"No," he snapped, "kissed on the arm by a horde of beautiful water nymphs."

"Wow. They use grumpy poison or something?"

"Never mind him, En," Arcade told her. "He's just moping because he's not getting a purple heart."

"A purple heart? What have you been doing?"

Garland's grumpy mood made place for some pride. "We saved the life of the president of the NCR. But as per Not-at-Home's instructions, we weren't allowed to make ourselves known."

"Wait, what?" En asked, "You saved the life of the President?"

"We did," Arcade said, his pride not hampered by a surly mood. "Boone took out a sniper hiding up in the third tower, and Garland and Cass stopped a disguised mechanic from plunging a knife in his chest. Veronica even spotted a bomb on the President's verti-bird. Would've been messy if that had gone off."

"Damn," En said. "Nice." She was genuinely impressed.

"Now if only Cass hadn't shouted at that mechanic when I was just about to silently tackle him, his knife wouldn't have ended in my arm."

"Tch, you big baby."

"Yeah, yeah. You know how hard it is to escape in the confusion when your arm's bleeding all over the place?"

"Garland," Arcade soothed. "Cass feels bad enough about it, no need to make it worse."

"She _better_ feel bad."

"Uh... anyway," En said. "House asked if you could come up. You still need to get paid."

"Damn straight I do," Garland said. "Though it's chump change if you think about it. We just saved the President's life, man!" he whined to Arcade.

"Yes, yes. Now let me change those bandages and you can go receive your pittance."

"Oh by the way?" En called after them. "My friends and I are having a last-night drink in town. I'm heading back home tomorrow. If you guys feel like coming, I'm buying at least one round."

That seemed to lift Garland's spirits. "Sure, yeah. But only if I get to buy one back."

"I'm not stopping you."

Melissa was just about done with her bath when she got to her suite, and she took a quick shower and got dressed. Her white tank top and denim skirt had seen a lot of evenings since she'd bought them.

Watkins was next, taking a quick shower and a slow make-up session, with a clump of toilet paper firmly stuffed into the keyhole. Melissa lay on the bed, her eyes closed, and En didn't consider it a bad idea to do the same.

She jerked awake when she heard the bathroom door open and Watkins stood there, in her tight black T-shirt and equally tight jeans. "Okay guys, I'm ready!"

And ready she was, looking amazing as ever.

"Roight," Melissa groaned, laboriously sitting up. "Let's roll then, yeah?"

"Yep." En stretched her arms in front of her. "So, Leza, which casino?"

"Well, there's improve theatre with audience participation in the Blackjack," she made a grimace, "Ew. Fancy dress at the Double Dice, boring. Charlie Chaplin film at the Gold Palace, boring. Some chick calling herself VV doing some kind of show at the Vesuvius, meh. Shemale Night at Gomorrah, ack! And the Ultra-Luxe is closed 'pending investigation'."

"So that leaves...?"

"Just the Tops, again. Dance act by Tommy Torini, so that should be nice? And it ends pretty early, and then there's live music and dance floor. You know, fun stuff?"

"The Tops again, it is," En said with a nod.

"Hold on, hold on," Melissa protested. "Tell me more about that shemale night."

En grinned. "Come on, let's go."

They saw Garland in the corridor and as they rapped on Sunny and Ringo's door, En called, "The Tops, come if you wanna. I'm gonna get so drunk they'll have to carry me home. Bring your friends and family."

With Ringo and Sunny in tow and Cheyenne more-or-less safely left behind in the suite with plenty of water and some treats, they set off towards the Tops, pushing through the crowd and taking in the night atmosphere of New Vegas. Melissa briefly broke away from the group to get a snack, some kind of fried fake-octopus balls called takayaka or something, sold by a little girl with a rainbow on her sweater. Unfortunately for Melissa, En and her friends practically mugged her to get their share and the bag was empty before she'd had more than two of the round fries, leading to complaints from her and amusement from the others. Even Ringo was having fun.

Swank didn't get a heart attack this time, but he was still apprehensive when he saw her. She again reassured him that she was simply here for drinks and the show, and he again reverted to his pearly white salesman grin and wished her a good evening.

The show was already underway when they arrived at the top floor, but there were quite a few empty tables. They clumped those together as quietly as they could, which was very loud, prompting annoyed complaints from patrons who were enjoying the show. En and her friends didn't bother apologizing. It was their last night, and they had a right to make some noise if it meant being able to sit together.

Seated and furnished with drinks, they watched the show Tommy Torini and his cats put on, their act flowing from tap dancing into an expressive dancing style that told sort of a story with body movements. En didn't get all of it, but she figured it wasn't something you were supposed to 'get', but just experience. Regardless, she was enjoying the time she was having with her friends.

The music only lasted for an hour and a half, and then a live band took over, alternating calm music with more up-tempo rock and roll. The second a calmer song started, Ringo stood up and extended his hand to Sunny, leading her to the dance floor, leaving the three ladies alone.

"Well, who'd ever thought this is how it'd end up?" Melissa ruminated as she set down the seventh beer. En had been diving into the brews too, she didn't like the taste much, but dammit, it was their last night and if she wasn't allowed to get a little drunk now, then when?

She was a bit buzzed already, but she started her seventh beer with gusto. "Yeah," she said to Melissa. "Though I'd kinda expected those two to end up together. Didn't expect we'd all work things out with you though."

"No, bet you hadn't."

"Okay, guys, okay," Leza interrupted. "Nobody wants to tell me what the whole history between you guys is. Why did you start out hating each other?"

En looked at Melissa, who shrugged. "Salright, you can tell 'er. She's earned that, yeah?"

"You sure?"

"Mm."

"C'mon, tell! It can't be _that_ bad?" Leza insisted.

"Fine, fine." En put her beer down on the table, and after one last look at Melissa, who gave a confirming nod, she said, "That Benny guy, who shot me? He didn't work alone."

"... Okay?"

"He paid two people to help with the robberies."

"... Yeah?"

Dammit, she was gonna have to spell everything out to this ditz, wasn't she. "Two Khans, Leza. Guess who one of them was."

Leza sat there with a sullen face for a few seconds and then her jaw dropped. "Oh my God." She slowly turned her head to the tough chick in her leather vest. "Melissa?"

"Yup," Melissa confirmed, taking a swill from her beer and trying to look as casual as possible. "I handed him his gun, he pointed it at this little gremlin's head and blew half her skull off. Then Jessup an' me grabbed the shovels we'd found there and dug a hole, threw her in. An' that was that."

Leza was out of breath with surprise. "My God... I... I had no idea."

"No, I think that's pretty clear."

"So how'd you guys, I mean, how'd you find each other again? And hooked up?"

En told her the story about the quarry at Sloan, where they'd put Melissa on her knees and she'd set the pistol against her head. And she told her about how she'd stopped herself from blowing her brains out her forehead and took her with them in chains. The whole story.

"Wow."

En only burped in response.

"Bet you hate my guts now, huh?" Melissa said with a grin, looking at the dancing people and draining her beer bottle.

"I... don't, actually. It's, kinda, not my place? If Ennie's forgiven you then, like, who am I to hate, right?"

Well there was a pleasant surprise. Melissa turned to Leza and said, sounding sincere, "Well, I'm glad you think so. Does you credit."

Leza shrugged. "I just know you as Melissa, the tough chick in Ennie's group. No reason for that to change?"

Melissa grinned and got up. "I'll drink to that. Or at least get more drinks."

"Oh hey," Leza pointed out. "There's Garland."

Indeed, Garland had found his way to the Tops, on his own apparently. No Cass or Veronica or Arcade in sight. And of course no psycho sniper either. What he did during these evenings, En didn't want to know. Garland was confident enough to immediately park his ass at her table. "Hey ladies. More of the same?"

En and Leza both replied "Sure", at the same time.

"Cool." He got back up and went for drinks, crossing Melissa as she came back and taking her order too.

"Here's your loverboy," Melissa sneered when she sat down.

"Pft," Leza blew. "We had sex once. And it was great. But he's like, totally not my loverboy."

"Your lovergirl not here?" En asked.

"Seems not. Doesn't matter. I'm gonna branch out some today, remember."

"Just not in my room," En made it clear. "And that goes for you too."

"Yeah, yeah," Leza said with a roll of her eyes. "Tonight I just wanna be with my friends."

"Really," En said, making sure she sounded as incredulous as she felt. "That would be a first."

"What-_ever_."

Garland came back with the drinks, sat down and asked, "So. You done with Vegas?"

"Yup."

"What sealed the deal?"

"Well," she explained, "I almost drowned yesterday, doing that job for House. And... I dunno, I just figured I'd almost died enough times. Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later."

"Ain't it the truth."

"You still gonna work for him?"

He made a pensive face. "Don't know, really. If he's got some more good offers, why not, I guess. Though that whole saving the President job got pretty hairy, to be honest."

"I can imagine."

He got up and held out his hand. "I'll tell you all about it during a dance?"

"Uh..." she knew she was pretty tipsy and that bad ideas suddenly looked like really good ideas when you were in that state, but that didn't stop her. "Sure." She took his hand and got up.

"Like I said, it got pretty hairy," Garland said as they took a spot on the reasonably full dance floor. He seemed to be holding her closer than he had the last time, but En didn't mind. "Legion guys had done their homework. Posted a sniper on one of the towers, a guy with a knife in the crowd, posing as a tech. And before he'd mingled in the crowd, he'd planted a bomb on the President's vertibird."

"And here I was thinking they were all assheads."

"Yeah, same. Boone saw the NCR sniper get killed and replaced with a Legion fucker, and Cass and I got wind of the mechanic. I tried to sneak up on him and take him down quietly, but then Cass shouted, 'Garland! It's that mechanic!'," and he turned and stabbed me in the arm." He pulled her a bit closer, thinking she wouldn't notice because of the drink, but she did.

"Good thing it was just your arm."

"You said it. Well, we didn't get recognition for it, but House did pay us ten thousand."

"_Ten_ thousand?" En echoed. "We only got five. Cheap-ass sumbitch."

"Well," he said, not without pride, "You didn't save the President of the New California Republic."

"No, but still..." His hand came to rest slightly lower on her back.

"So. You're going home. Excited?"

"Yeah, kinda. Bit bummed too. You know, having to say goodbye, and all."

"Mm. You guys seem like a tight group."

His hand went a little lower, and it was half on her ass now. She knew she should say something, but she didn't. It could have been the drink, or it could be the fact that it was her last day. She didn't know. What she did know is, she didn't mind that much.

"You know," he went on, "we didn't really get off to a good start in the beginning, but I got to like you over the days."

"Heh, well isn't that a compliment."

"Too bad you're going. It kinda won't be the same without you."

"Pft, I was just that brat who kept getting in your way." Why was he suddenly complimenting her?

"Nah, you were more than that. Hey, we were locked up together, remember? And we went behind enemy lines, sorta."

She had to grin. "Yeah, that we did. And it was _kinda_ awesome."

"It totally was. Y'know, En, I've been treating you like a child, and that was wrong of me. You more than proved that."

"Well!" This was a surprise. "Never thought I'd hear that from you."

Garland said nothing, brought his face closer to her and pressed his lips against hers. Her natural instinct was to struggle, but she didn't feel the need to. Drink or not, it was alright. He pressed her tighter against him and his tongue pushed its way in between her teeth. _What the fuck_, she thought, _it's my last day_, and she allowed her tongue to duel with his, two warm, fleshy, wet lumps of muscle rolling and pushing against each other. It was disgusting when she thought of it, and she didn't _enjoy_ it, it didn't make her any warmer, but it was what normal girls did and maybe if she gave it a chance, it would turn out to be not so bad after all.

One of his hands grabbed her butt and the other slid up, first going over her belly and then up to her back. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't see each and every one of her friends with their eyes wide and their jaws dropped.

He held her even closer and grunted in her ear, "God I want you." And when he pressed his pelvis against her, it was pretty clear that he wasn't lying. His hand went down, past her hip, and his fingers made their way under her skirt.

Instinctively, she pulled away when she felt his fingers touch her underpants, suddenly overcome by apprehension. "Wait. No. I... I'm not..." Oh man this had been a mistake. What the Hell was she doing? Drunk or not, this was a horrible, horrible idea. The brief touch of his fingers had suddenly driven it home how real this was.

"You're not what?"

"I'm sorry, I... I don't think this is..."

"This is what?"

"I don't know, I don't think..." she sighed in confusion. "I shouldn't do this."

"Did you just cock-tease me?" he asked, flustered, pulling his face back, but still holding her against him.

"_No._ No... Sorry, really. I thought I was ready for this but... I was wrong. Sorry."

"I don't underst – "

"_Mind_ if I cut in?!" a female voice full of barely contained anger interrupted him. The next thing she knew, Melissa had taken Garland by the shoulder and pulled him away from her.

"What the Hell do _you_ w – " Garland began, but Melissa cut him off. "It doesn't matter what _I_ want. I know what _you_ want!"

"So? It's not like I forced – "

"Takin' advantage of a drunk teenager, you should be _fuckin'_ ashamed," Melissa shouted. The dance floor had fallen silent, and all eyes were on them now.

"Melissa – " En began, but she didn't have the chance to say anything either.

"And _you_ should know better." Then back to Garland, "Christ, you're old enough to be her father!"

"_Melissa_," En insisted. Melissa turned her head toward her, looking livid. "You're right, this was stupid. But it's my fault too. It... takes two."

That seemed to calm her down a bit. "Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. You'll thank me for this in the morning."

"It's okay, Melissa," En admitted. "You're right. Sorry about this, Garland. I didn't mean to – "

He just stood there, looking angry and guilty at the same time. "It's okay. You're right, this was stupid." He said no more and stomped off. Yeah, so much for her fun last evening.

"C'mon," Melissa said, noticing En stood there, crestfallen. "No real harm done. All he got was a butt-squeeze and some tongue-wrestlin'. Let's go sit down, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure."

But as they turned, they found themselves staring straight in the face of Cass. Oh, great.

"Thought I didn't have to worry about you?" she snapped.

"You don't," En said back. "Nothing happened and I'm going home tomorrow anyway."

"Nothing happened?" she echoed. "He had his hand under your skirt!"

This whole thing was unfixable anyway, so she just flapped her hand. "Whatever. I'm going home tomorrow, like I said, so it wouldn't be a problem even if it was one."

"Just so you know," Cass threatened with a glare. "I'm not in your debt anymore. You forfeited that by what you just did. So if you ever get in my way again, I'll do more than clobber you one, got that?"

Melissa gave her a hard push. "That's enough outta you."

"Yeah, that's it," Cass grunted. "Hide behind your ugly watch dog." She seemed to be doubting about taking Melissa on, but while Cass was certainly tough, everyone would put their money on Melissa if the two ever decided to duke it out. Cass realized the same thing, and settled for simply saying, "Promise me you'll be gone by morning, cunt."

"I said enough," Melissa repeated, holding one hand with the other in front of her, making it clear she was ready to begin punching if Cass was.

"Look, Cass, I'm sorry about this, but seriously?" En said. "You should accept that you just can't change some things. Or some people."

The anger on Cass' face mixed with sadness. "I know that. But that doesn't give any of you the right to make it all that much worse."

"Go on," Melissa said, sounding calm but final. "Best that you left."

And she did, turning around and walking out of the Tops. God, what a clusterfuck this had been. What ever had given her the idea that letting this guy fool around with her was a good idea. It must have been the drink. Or the emotional state because of her last evening. Or maybe she'd just wanted to fool herself into thinking she was normal. God damn.

"C'mon, let's sit down and have another beer, where it's safe."

'Safe'. That sounded so stupid, and yet it was right. When they'd reached the table again, Melissa said to Leza, "You're over twenty. You do whatever you want, with whoever you want. But this one needed a friend to bail her out."

"I really can't say much," Leza said. She was right, how hypocritical would that be? "Just sit down, Ennie, and let's have another drink."

"Yeah," En said. "Good idea."

"Might wanna switch to coke," Melissa suggested.

"Nah, I'm good. Just make sure I don't dance with anyone anymore tonight and I'll be fine."

"As you wish," Melissa said with a grin, uncapping another beer.

Apart from the brief drama bullshit on the dance floor, the rest of the night progressed without any more disruptions. Sunny and Ringo danced the night away, looking genuinely happy in each other's arms, even stuffy Ringo showing genuine affection on his face. En talked with Melissa and Leza, telling them about New Arroyo and how things went there, how it was an awesome town, if a bit boring – but then, everything would be boring after the adventure she'd had here. Of course, drunk as she was, she kept going on about Christopher and about how Allison was certain to keep any harpies off him for her – after all, Allison was a true friend. Leza talked about the Brotherhood, guffawing as she remembered the pranks she'd pulled and the rebellious mischief she'd caused, as well as the many carnal adventures she'd been a part of. Melissa was mostly quiet, listening or looking at the dancing people. Eventually Tommy Torini of all people came up to their table, and said he hadn't had the chance to thank Melissa yet for introducing him to Leza Lorelai, the blonde knockout who had turned the place upside down with her performance. The two went to the bar and talked there, occasionally laughing. While Leza was talking to her some more, En saw them both quietly leave the bar. Heh, no mystery what they would be doing tonight.

Melissa actually came back half an hour later, her face still slightly flushed.

"Tell me you washed your hands," En said, feeling so drunk everything was slowly turning, even the chair she was sitting on.

"I did, I did," Melissa said with a thin, knowing smile, and rejoined the conversation. They talked for hours, all pleasant stuff, all things that made En realize even more that she'd miss these friends terribly.

"Right, jill," Melissa announced when the conversation began to flag. "It's four in the mornin', and you're so drunk you can't even sit straight. I'm gonna take you home, yeah?"

"Can you carry me too?" Leza whined. "I don't... feel so good."

"You're on your own, blondie. C'mon jill. Bed time."

Melissa's arm slid under her shoulder and pulled her up. Oh _shit_ she was drunk. The entire Tops spun wildly and her belly turned in the opposite direction. Her stomach began to slowly contract.

"_Wait_ til we're outside!" Melissa said, miles away. "C'mon."

Melissa helped her down the stairs and back to the casino floor, which was slowly emptying. Oh man, she was so _fucking _drunk. She had never felt worse in her entire life. The nausea became almost uncontainable. "Just a little further," Melissa said calmly, supporting her as they made their way through the casino.

No sooner did En feel the cold night air on her face, than she gave up the struggle against her rolling stomach, and she barfed on the sidewalk in a yellow, sour cone, the puke splattering on the stones. "Hurrrk!"

"Ho!" Melissa cheered. "Projectile vomit!"

Another contraction of her stomach, and more beer with chunks of strange octopus balls was propelled out of her nose and mouth, hitting the pavement with a wet splattering noise. En heard herself utter an inarticulate "Uhhhhhh", followed by laughter from Melissa.

"Look at that gunk fly! Good thing you don't have hair I have to keep outta your face."

"Ugh that's disgusting... Oh God oh God oh God," Leza whined next to them, fanning her fingers at her face in a pointless gesture to calm down. "I'm gonna hurl."

And hurl she did, though her session was slightly more dignified than En's. She leaned against the wall, bent over and out it came. Like En, it took two good retches to get it out.

"Feelin' better?" Melissa asked. Even though her drunken haze, En could tell she was enjoying the sight. Still, she was nice enough to take a tissue and hold it against En's nose. "Blow, jill."

She gave a half-hearted blow, making a pathetic _frrrtt_-sound, but at least most of it was out of her nose now. Oh God how horrible. She felt absolutely terrible. If being drunk was like this, she was never drinking again.

"Well jill, you sure made it a night to remember."

"Told yuh... ya I wah... was gohhhhonna get dr..."

"Yeah, so drunk we had to carry you home. You weren't lyin'. Hey, at least you didn't get all teary an' emotional an' pathetic like some drunks do."

"Tchhh," she blew, slumped against Melissa. "I've got nuhhhuthing to be... be teary about. Goin' huh... home, made aw... awesome friends."

"Damn straight. Yo, blondie, you comin'?" Leza was apparently behind them.

"I'm good! I'm good!" Leza called out, far too loudly. "I can walk! I can walk!"

"You call that _walkin_'?" Melissa called back.

"I'm not that drunk!" Leza's voice came back. "I totally... swear."

They were almost at the Lucky 38, and En didn't even experience the rest of the walk consciously. She had no idea how she'd made it in, up the elevator, and into bed, but she got there eventually.


	66. Long Way

**SIXTY-SIX**

**The Lucky Thirty-Eight**

**July 19****th**

**09:26**

"Well good mornin', little trail hand!"

What the fucking _fuck_?

"Rise an' shine, cowgirl, Mr. House w ants to flap gums with ya."

"Get the _fuck_ out of here!" En snarled at the robot, propping herself up on her elbows, but unable to open her eyes more than a squint.

"Can't do that, I'm afraid, Calamity Jane. You're gonna have to come with me right now."

"You deaf?" En snapped back, her eyes caked with sleep. Her head still spun. Shit, the drink wasn't out of her system yet. Her head pounded and her entire body screamed for sleep. "Out!"

"Yeah," Leza supported her, the pillow over her head. "We're trying to _sleep_ here?"

"Now young'un," Victor scolded. "You seem to be forgettin' that this ain't yer room to begin with. It belongs to Mr. House." The cheery cowboy façade was gone, and the robot sounded positively threatening now. "Either you walk on yer two cowboy boots, or I'm draggin you like you were a calf. You're comin' with me, whether you like it or not."

"Christ, will you shut that stupid bot up?" Melissa groaned from her place on the sofa.

"I'm _trying_!" En shouted back. "Victor, seriously, whatever it is, it can _wait_! I'm still drunk, for fuck's sake."

"This'll sober you right up, cowgirl." There was a gentle tap of metal against her forehead, and when she wrenched her eyes open, En realized it was the barrel of a rocket launcher, and she was looking right into it.

Victor was right about one thing: looking into the barrel of a rocket launcher was extremely sobering. Despite the drunkenness, she suddenly found herself able to think more clearly.

"Whoa, easy," she breathed. She hadn't noticed the securitron robot that had rolled in along with Victor. The cartoon soldier face on its screen regarded her with apathetic sternness. "Alright, alright. Can I at least get dressed?"

"Won't do to appear before Mr. House in yer underthings. Five minutes." With that, the securitron bot and Victor rolled out of the room, and the door shut with a pneumatic hiss.

"What the Hell?" Leza asked, annoyed. Her hair stood in all directions and her face was wrinkled from the pillow. Her eyes were almost completely closed.

"I don't know," En groaned. "But I better go." She stood up and felt the room lazily bob up and down. "Shit, I _am_ still drunk."

"Sooner you go," Melissa pointed out, "sooner you can crawl back into bed."

"Ugh, I swear, if this is for some bullshit reason, I'm gonna pull out that House fucker's monitors and jam them up his asshole."

"Colourful," was all Melissa had to say to that.

She pulled her pants on and threw on a freshly washed T-shirt. Her head felt twice its size and her footing was nauseatingly unsure. What the fuck, man, just... what the fuck.

Victor and the securitron still stood waiting when she came out of the room. "Straight to the elevator now, rustler." The rocket launcher still aimed at her enforced Victor's point. She swayed to the elevator and got in. It was a tight fit, with both Victor and the securitron also in there, and as they rode it up, an uncomfortable feeling came over En. Why were they being so demanding? House was a manipulative prick, sure, but threatening wasn't his style. Had she done anything wrong last night? She strained hard to remember, but apart from her horribly embarrassing make-out session with Garland, she couldn't think of anything she'd possibly have done wrong. What the fuck was going on?

_Ding!_

Jane was completely silent as the securitron gave En a push in the back with its rocket launcher.

"Keep movin'," Victor sing-songed.

Garland was there too, his short hair dishevelled. He'd quickly thrown on some pants and a T-shirt, just like her. Ugh, this was awkward.

"You have any idea what this is about?" En asked, detecting a faint slur in her own voice.

"Not a one."

"No more talkin' now, y'all," Victor ordered. "Mr. House will be doin' the talkin' from here on out."

En permitted herself an angry glare at the robot standing behind her, but Victor's cartoon cowboy face was still as cheerful as ever.

Mr. House' face appeared on the screen. The face itself, like all the other robot screens, was still emotionless and perfectly neutral, but the voice wasn't. "What do you have to say for yourself, you treacherous ingrates?" it fulminated.

En had no idea what he was going on about, so she remained silent, as did Garland.

"Well?" the voice barked. "Aren't you going to answer me?"

She knew it was a bad idea as soon as she opened her mouth, but out it came: "Your bot here said you'd be doing the talking." No sooner had she finished speaking, than a metal prehensile tool clapped her over the back of the head. "_Ow_! Fuck!" she bent over and held her head. Son of a bitch, that one hurt!

"Hey!" she heard Garland shout. "That was uncalled for!" She heard another thud and then a grunt of pain from Garland.

"You've got a lot of nerve, acting smart with me at this point, En Tessara," House thundered. "As of right now, you will speak when spoken to and keep your filthy mouth shut when you are not! Is that clear?"

Again, horrible idea, but it went out nonetheless, "So... can I answer that one, or what?"

There was no whack around the head, but House' voice became icy calm. "Enlil Tessara, you are literally _one_ idiot remark away from death."

"Alright," Garland, of all people, tried to settle things down. "Let's all take it easy. I'm sure we can work this out without beatings and death threats."

"Oh, there _is_ a way to 'work it out'," House answered. "But I fear the demands I will make now will be _extremely_ one-sided."

"It'd help," En pointed out, "if you told us what we've done?" She _really_ had no idea what this was about, and this was a legit question, she figured, so it was worth asking it, so she at least knew what the Hell was going on. House didn't seem like the type to renege on deals or betray his 'employees', so something must have happened.

"Take a _guess_, child!" House spat. "Did you think I wouldn't _notice_? That I wouldn't _find out_?"

She suddenly heard Garland next to her, groan, "Ah crap."

"Garland?" she asked. "You know what this is about? Because I'd like to _fucking_ know."

"_I'm_ in charge of this conversation," House interrupted. "And I'm talking about your imbecilic attempt to steal from me."

"_Steal_ from y – ?"

"The _bug_ you tried to plant in this building, Enlil Tessara! Do you honestly think I was unaware of those Followers of the Apocalypse cretins and their agenda? The amateurism was so painful it was an insult!"

Oh shit, no. He hadn't. He fucking _hadn't_! She felt her teeth clench together. "Garland."

"Ah shit," was all he could say. "We're screwed now."

"I _told_ you," she shouted. "I fucking _told_ you!"

"Yeah, yeah. You did," he said wearily. "This one's on me."

"This is a breach of trust that is unforgivable," House went on. "And it will require recompense on your part – more sizeable than any assignment you've done for me." He seemed to be somewhat calmer now, his business sense taking over again. But what the Hell was he going to ask? And more importantly, what did En have to do with any of that? It's not like _she_ had installed the damn bug for the damn Followers of the Apocalypse.

"Whoa, hey!" En protested. "I didn't have anything to do with this! I even told him not to do it!"

"So you were aware of it," House parried, "and didn't come to me? Then you're an accomplice."

"But... that's not fair!" En pleaded, tears forming in her eyes. Oh God she was never going home. "_He_ planted that bug, _I_ just wanted to go home!"

"Crying won't help," House said flatly. "This is my decision. Thinking emotional pleas will move me, only insults me further."

"Thanks for the solidarity, kid," Garland grunted at her. And then, back to House, "So. Let's hear it then. What's your just punishment?"

House thankfully ignored his tone and explained. "As punishment for your betrayal, you will get rid of my number one enemy. You will not be remunerated for this assignment. You will not able to call in future services for this assignment. The one thing I will grant you, are your two lives."

"So if we say no...?" Garland asked regardless.

"Then you and miss Tessara will promptly be turned into steaming piles of guts."

"You sure?" En asked despite her better judgment. "I'll stick to your walls and your floors just to spite you."

"Your deserved reduction to a pile of insides will be worth putting several securitrons on cleaning detail for," House simply said back. "As for your assignment, you will get the details if you decide to accept it." His anger was gone, and he was once again the gleeful manipulator he's always sounded as. "A man chooses, a slave obeys. You are still a man and a woman, how ever barely. So the choice is yours. Swift and brutal destruction, or a chance at survival. Either suits me just fine."

"Ugh, stop with the drama already," En said, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be going home yet. Even going home at all would probably be anything but a sure thing. "Just tell us what you want us to do."

"You share the same sentiment, Garland Reilly?"

"Get on with it."

"Very well. Your last assignment for me, will be to destroy the Brotherhood of Steel."

_What_ did he just say? En had to do a double-take on that one. "Whoa, did you just say...?"

"I don't like repeating myself. You heard me well enough."

"Why?" Garland asked. "Why would you possibly want us to – "

"I don't see how that's any business of yours," House cut him off. "But if you must know, I will not abide a faction that hoards technology, cares only about shiny armour, and considers itself the moral judge on whether or not mankind is worthy to be introduced to it."

"But... isn't wiping them out a bit extreme?" En asked. "Why do you hate them so much?"

"Because they're ridiculous!" House blurted out. "Because they gallivant around the Mojave pretending to be knights of yore!" Calmer, and more dismissively, he added, "The world has no place for emotionally unstable techno-fetishists. Just wipe them out, would you."

There was no way En was doing that. And she figured Garland thought the same thing. Hell, both Leza and Veronica were Brotherhood, and they seemed a decent, if a bit uppity, bunch. Sure, they were tech-hoarders and a considerable number of them were probably ornery assholes, but En sure didn't kill people for being assholes. That would mean she had to kill half the world. No, it seemed clear what she had to do. Just say yes and then run. Run far away. Somewhere House couldn't touch her.

"And in case you were thinking of running away," House said smugly, "Let me remind you that you two are not the only ones I can take corrective action against." He let a silence fall. "My securitrons can march without complaint or pause. And it's not such a long way to Shady Sands... or New Arroyo."

Oh, that piece of shit.

"Hey," Garland quickly protested. "You leave our hometowns outta this. In fact, leave her outta this too. This is on me_._"

"_You_ signed away your right to object when you took the decision of installing a malicious device in my building, Garland Reilly. This is non-negotiable. You will destroy the Brotherhood of Steel or both your hometowns will burn."

En clenched her teeth and her hands balled into fists. Any drunkenness she still felt was now gone. "That's disgusting."

"It's _business._"

"C'mon, kid," Garland said. "We're both gonna cool off and then we'll come back to discuss the details." He took her by the arm, with gentle pressure.

"Fine," En said, knowing it would be pointless to protest, and also realizing, like Garland probably did, that if they wanted to have a shot at toppling House, they'd need an excuse to get access to him again. 'Discussing the details' would be a perfect reason. Because she was not blowing up the Brotherhood, and she was not dying. Not if she could help it.

They rode the elevator back down, and Garland merely said, "Get dressed and freshen up. We'll talk outside."

Good. He had a plan too. Or at least, the same general intention.

Leza groaned in complaint when she came back in. "Close the _door_. Stop making _noise_."

En said nothing and just trudged towards the shower.

A quick shower and a tooth-brushing later, En rode the elevator down to the casino floor and stepped outside, catching Garland smoking a cigarette in the rapidly-warming air.

"You stupid fuckpigeon," she immediately growled. "I told you. I _told_ you!"

"What do you want me to say, huh?" he asked calmly. "I fucked up, can't change that now."

"God damn idiot. I want to put you through a wall, seriously."

"Sure, but do it when we're done with this."

He was right. This was no time to be at each other's throats, even if it was entirely justified. What a freaking moron, and she was paying for it along with him. And all she'd wanted to do was go home. The place she'd had awesome adventures at had suddenly turned into a prison. Because of this fuckhead.

"Right, so what do you suggest? I'm not blowing up the Brotherhood, and I sure as Hell don't intend to die either. So?"

"Let's walk. You're back to being sober, right?"

"_Yes_."

"Good. You drop way too many f-bombs when you're drunk."

"Garland," she said, anger simmering in her chest, "You deserve every f-bomb I can drop on you right now."

"I'm just saying."

"By the way," she couldn't resist, "dropping f-bombs isn't the only stupid thing I do when I'm drunk."

He chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. "So you remember that, huh? Was kinda hoping you wouldn't."

"I was hoping the same thing."

"Then we're both outta luck. Look, it's obvious we can't blow up the Brotherhood. But the alternative is dying... Unless you have another idea."

She did, in fact. She'd been making her eyes do a lot of work every time she was there, especially in the beginning, before she'd decided he could be trusted. She'd already noticed the box with the transmitter fitted on his home cinema. It had a logo on it like she'd seen on a lot of pre-war tech, a sharply angled B. If she had to put money on it, that's where she'd guess the securitron control was.

But of course, House wasn't an idiot. He'd have redundancies installed. Back-up systems that could go online as soon as the main system was taken out. Still, those would take time to be activated. A few seconds might be enough. Because she hadn't just spotted a transmitter. There was a door set in the side of House' audience chamber, a heavily armoured one secured with a keypad. And keypads, cute though they were, were easily circumvented by rerouting the wiring so the opening relay got an impulse from one of the keys rather than from the processor. Like she'd done on that safe when she'd left Goodsprings with Sunny and Ringo, so long ago.

She was pretty sure that was the way. But how would she possibly get close to the transmitting unit...?

"Look, I may have an idea," she said. "I think I can deactivate House' securitron control hub. And I think I can access his bedroom, or his A.I. core, or his office, or his mainframe, or whatever it is that's behind that reinforced metal door in his god damn throne room."

"So what's your idea?"

She told him about the plan, and about the one snag it had: how to get close enough to the transmitter without being blown to shreds.

"Heh. That's easy," he said, flicking his cigarette butt away.

A flush of hope went through En, even though she dreaded having to go through with this. "Yeah?"

"Sure. I gave you that stealth suit, didn't I?"

Oh _right_! If House's securitrons worked on visual sensors for the most part, Stel might just be her ticket to give House a right good red hot enema. "Mmmyeah, that's worth considering. But hey."

"Mm?"

"If he's human, I don't want to kill House. I really don't. He's a conniving bastard, but he treated us fairly until you decided to dick him over. Just threatening him or making him unable to come after us is enough. That clear?"

"Sure. We need him off our backs, not dead."

"Right." She sighed. "It'll be a long way home."


	67. Game Over

**SIXTY-SIX**

**The Lucky Thirty-Eight**

**July 19****th**

**13:11**

"You sure this is gonna work?" Garland asked through the bathroom door as En changed inside.

"No. And shut up." Geez, when was this guy gonna realize the whole place might be bugged, with microphones and tiny video cameras?

She shot an unsure look at the shower.

"Stel," she asked the suit in a low whisper as she zipped it closed. "Any chance you can detect any surveillance equipment here?"

"I AM A STEALTH SUIT. SUCH IS REGRETTABLY BEYOND THE SCOPE OF MY ABILITIES."

"Thought so."

"I HOPE THIS DOESN'T UPSET YOU?"

"No, no, of course not. But you never know, right?"

"INDEED. YOU STILL LIKE ME, DON'T YOU?"

"Yeah yeah, don't worry." Weird-ass suit.

There, that was the stealth suit all put on, all it needed was the hood, but she'd pull that over her head when the time was right. Briefly turning in front of the mirror to make sure the suit fit alright (and that it didn't crawl up her buttcrack), she took a breath and hoped to Hell that this plan would work. It'd depend on a lot of things, not in the least on which ways House' bots had to perceive things. If they simply used visual input, they'd be golden. But if they could also perceive heat signatures or worse, some kind of sonar-like echolocation, the plan wouldn't stand much of a chance. It all depended on this. En was confident they could pull the rest off too. Just that one thing: how did those bots perceive their surroundings?

They were going to test it before trying it on House' bots, of course. On a random securitron in the street. Chances were they'd be similarly equipped to the bots in House' cinema room. Testing it wouldn't be without danger, of course. For all they knew, the securitron might consider her invisibility to be an act of espionage or aggression and open fire. And En didn't have any doubt that while the suit may make her invisible, it would do little to hide the bloody chunks she would be torn into. But it had to be done. Destroying the Brotherhood for no reason other than 'they're ridiculous' was not an option, and neither was letting that conniving fucktard's securitrons roll into their hometowns.

God, she had a headache. Of course she did. This wasn't just the regular throbbing pain from the gunshot, no. This was the headache she'd only felt once or twice in her life: that of a god damn hangover. Damn she'd been drunk the night before. Tongued a guy fifteen years older than her, hurled on the side walk, the whole nine yards. For a goodbye evening, it certainly counted.

Yeah. A goodbye evening. She'd forgotten about that. Sunny and Ringo were 'undecided' (that meant they simply hadn't decided how to tell En yet), Melissa wasn't coming and Leza, well, she'd be tagging along to the bunker in Hidden Valley, and that was all. Lamers.

But this was no time to be worrying about that. Business at hand. Garland seemed to think so too. "Yo, you awake?"

"Mm? Yeah, sorry, thoughts trailed off for a sec."

"Yeah, well, we need to keep our heads in the game on this."

"Yes, mom."

"No god damn jokes," he snapped. "Can you be serious for _once_?"

"Joking's my way of dealing with a difficult situation," she simply said back. "And in case you didn't notice, this entire situation will be a lot more difficult for me than it will be for you."

"Yeah, because we're not in the same boat, right?"

"I wonder if you'd still be so blasé about it if that stealth suit was actually to _your_ size."

"But it isn't," he pointed out, lighting another cigarette. "Nothing anyone can do to change that."

Argh he was so intolerably laid-back. "Look, let's just get it out of the way. I can't stealth when people can see me though. And to make sure those bots can't see me, I need to do something illegal so they have to respond."

"Got anything in mind?"

Oh she did. She did very much. "I'll think of something," she lied.

"Right."

"Okay, I'll go stealth behind the casino. You draw a securitron's attention, make sure it's looking right at you."

"Uh, how?"

"_I don't know_," she bit at him. "Just do something, whatever, geez!" What an asshole. How she'd ever decided to let him paw her, she really had no idea. Pushing the thought away, she walked across the street as casually as she could, and once she'd slunk away in an alley, she took off the leather she wore over the stealth suit and stashed it in the one dumpster that wasn't filled with stinky food waste.

"Okay, Stel, you ready?"

"I WAS BORN READY," the suit said, trying to give off a cool-heroine impression. What an advanced A.I. this was. If Garland only half knew what a marvel of technology this thing was, he probably wouldn't have lent it to her so easily. Ah well, his loss.

She pulled the hood over her face. "Okay then. Engage stealth function."

"ENGAGED."

En held her hand in front of the hood's visor to make sure, and indeed, all she could see was a barely perceptible bend of the light around her. Excellent.

"BATTERY LIFE, THREE AND A HALF MINUTES."

"Gotcha."

"THREE AND A HALF MINUTES OF INVISIBLE AWESOMENESS."

"Err... yes."

She sneaked out from between the alleyways, confident that no one saw her. The streets were mostly empty anyway, the only people occupying them, the deliverymen, day workers and the extremely hardy partiers. Garland, in the meantime, had moseyed up to a securitron and was asking it something.

"Stel," En whispered, "Can you make out what he's saying?"

"AUDIO BOOST MODE ENGAGED."

"Great."

"EAVESDROPPING," it clarified helpfully, and En could swear there was a mischievous edge to it.

"Good, let's hear it."

There was a lot of interference, but the suit seemed able to somewhat pick up the sound of Garland's voice between all the day noise. Stupendous.

"Hello uh... robot," she heard Garland say. Idiot. "I'd like to uh..." there was a brief moment of silence. Oh come on, just think of something! "... report a crime?" Hm, she supposed that would do.

"WHAT KIND OF CRIME?" the securitron's pre-programmed response sounded.

As Garland stood there like a jackass, thinking about what he was going to say, En quietly sneaked up to him from behind, and when she was close enough, pulled her leg back. This would be the moment they found out. Please let this work.

"Uh..." Garland muttered, but before he could say anything more, En gave him a hard soccer kick, right against his ass, propelling him forward and getting a surprised, "Ooh!" out of him. Muhahahahaha!

"What the fuck," he snarled as En slowly backed away to give the securitron a chance of spotting her. Surely assault would be a pretty serious crime in Vegas... Her heart pounded in her chest as she hoped the bot wouldn't lock onto her and blast her into kibble.

_Bzzt_!

Oh crap the launcher had moved in her direction. She remained motionless, wincing from the impact she prayed she wouldn't receive.

The air left her lungs in a loud sigh when she realized it wouldn't come: the securitron lowered its launcher again and returned the gaze of its screen to Garland. "YOUR RESPONSE WAS UNCLEAR. REPEAT YOUR RESPONSE."

She turned sneaked away while Garland went all, "Uh, nothing, nothing, I was mistaken, heh heh."

Stel's voice suddenly warned in her earwig, "COMBAT MODE INITIATED."

Immediately En's heartbeat galloped and hot flashes went through her. She whipped her head back to see the missile coming, even though she'd never be able to dodge it. _Oh no they did see me and now they're going to -_

"... JUST KIDDING."

The tension went out of her again. "God dammit Stel, that's not funny."

"... SORRY."

"Don't do that again," she hissed to the suit.

"OKAY. DO YOU STILL LIKE ME?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just... don't do that again."

The suit seemed to feel guilty enough to try and be helpful. "BATTERIES AT FIFTY-SIX PERCENT."

"Uh huh." She'd reached the alley again and told Stel to "disengage stealth mode."

"UNDERSTOOD. BATTERIES RECHARGING."

She fished her leather out of the dumpster and hoisted herself back into it. The stealth suit was a bit too, errr... 'snug' to walk out in public with. Well, that and it'd make people ask questions. Wouldn't be good for their low profile. Better to just keep it hidden.

When she emerged, Garland stood in the centre of the street, looking around for her with an angry look on his face. She grinned inwardly, enjoying his indignation. He tried to secretly rub the painful spot on his ass, but he couldn't hide his pain. And his shame. Ha ha.

"Hope I didn't kick you too hard, there, Gary," she smirked, making sure he could hear that she didn't hope that at all.

"Yeah, yeah," Garland grunted with a scowl on his face. "Go ahead and get cute. And call me Gary one more time and you'll be wearing your ass as a hat."

En only sniggered at Garland's contained outrage. Yes, it was childish, but dang it, she'd done the dangerous work, so she had a right to some amusement. Especially considering that this entire mess was _his fault to begin with._

"So anyway," he went on, still annoyed. "Seems it worked alright?"

"Kinda yeah. Thought he had me pegged for a moment, but seems as long as I don't move too quickly or make too much noise, they'll be blind to me. Seem to be using visual and auditory input mostly."

He hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked at the Lucky 38. "So this plan could actually work, huh?"

"I think so. I'll be doing all the work though. _Again_."

"Yeah, like I said, that stealth suit doesn't fit me. If I could do it in your place, I would, believe me."

Somehow En doubted that. "Yeah. Well, let's discuss the plan then. And we leave our groups out of it for the time being. Need these batteries to charge too."

Garland nodded.

They talked about how they were going to go about it, and despite some heated discussion, they eventually reached an agreement, coming to a consensus just as their bag of fried brahmin meatballs was wholly consumed. En had heard of an eating contest that had been organized in a farm town where the statue girl had passed, long ago, but in that case the brahmin fries had been _actual_ brahmin balls. It had supposedly ended with some serious wall-to-wall vomiting when the contestants had found out. Or something like that.

But the plan was forged, and the specifics were laid out. They'd opted for the simplest version of their plan, because they were going heavily for the "plan too stupid to fail"-approach. God this would be the stupidest plan in the history of humanity. It hinged on far too many unknown factors. But it had to work. It had to. The alternatives weren't alternatives.

They rode the elevator up to the penthouse level.

"You ready, kid?" Garland asked as the elevator neared its apex.

"Uh huh." Sharing an elevator with him when only wearing the stealth suit was more uncomfortable than it had ever been. She shuddered when she remembered his grunting 'God I want you' from the day before, and she hoped furiously that it had been the drink talking on his part too. Ghhh, what had she been thinking.

_Ding!_

"Go, Stel."

STEALTH MODE ENGAGED.

As per the plan, Garland came out of the elevator and told Jane the secretarybot, "I'm here to see Mr. House. We h... I have some questions."

_Dumbass!_

"Alright, Mr. Reilly. Just a moment."

_Not too long, not too long!_

The 'just a moment' dragged on and on, while En sat kneeling in the elevator, as motionless and as quiet as possible. _Come on, come on, these batteries don't last forever!_

"Look," Garland said, uncharacteristically realising the urgency of the situation. "I don't have much time. Can you please hurry it up?"

"BATTERIES AT EIGHTY PERCENT."

"No, Mr. Reilly, I'm afraid Mr. House is very busy and will see you on his _own_ time," Jane said in her Southern secretary drawl. _Dammit!_

"... Oh, there we go," Jane suddenly told Garland. "Mr. House will see you now."

"_Thank_ you."

As the reinforced door slid open, Garland slowly walked toward it, giving En the time to slip past him, and inside. She had to do it quietly and slowly, but still quickly enough to not make it look suspicious. Jane hadn't noticed her. Good.

Mr. House' cartoon face appeared on the screen again. The very way it was drawn pissed En off. That thin moustache, the pomade hair, that one eyebrow always mockingly raised. He'd sing a different tune if this worked – unless En and Garland ended up as bloody shreds. But that wouldn't happen. That _couldn't_ happen.

Two securitrons stood in their respective corners behind Garland, and another stood next to the security door set in the far wall. That was the door where they could reach the real House. En was certain of it. It had to be.

She quietly stole into the room, moving straight for House' home cinema, and more importantly, the box with the stylized B-logo set into the side of the whole video set. She'd seen the logo before, on old devices that transmitted or received data. Or both. It was pre-War tech, but she was pretty sure what it did. That would be the securitron control transmitter. He'd doubtless have backups, but it was a mystery when those came online after the primary controller was destroyed. If this even was the primary controller.

AARGH! She couldn't be doubting now!

Silently creeping towards the home cinema, she heard Garland say, "There's a few questions I need answered."

"Miss Tessara not with you?"

_Don't say something stupid don't say something stupid don't say something stupid_

"No, she... That was my question. It's my fault we got into this, so if I complete your mission alone, is she off the hook as well?"

"_If_ you complete it, yes. But until my assignment is carried out, you are both responsible."

_Hm, not bad Garland._ She had to admit it was a good save.

Now to disable this thing.

"BATTERIES AT FIFTY PERCENT."

Ugh, crap. They drained so quickly. Still, plenty of time. Plenty of time. She studied the transmitter from every angle while Garland thought up more pointless questions. He'd focused on the Brotherhood's defences now, citing that he'd need to know what he was up against and could use all the intel he could get. Good, good, keep going.

There were several wires that ran from the transmitter into the main console, but that didn't mean there weren't more wires connected via the inside. Hmmm, what would be the best way to disable it...?

"BATTERIES AT THIRTY PERCENT. STEALTH FIELD INTERMITTENT."

Oh shit! She'd forgot about that! The stealth field began to flicker when batteries were low.

"What is this treachery?!" House shouted as En flickered and flashed back into view.

Without thinking, she just took hold of the transmitter box and pulled as hard as she could, but the thing wouldn't budge. The next moment, Garland body-slammed into her, bowling her over as the securitrons opened fire, the miniguns spinning up to speed and the rocket launchers ejecting their deadly payload from their tubes.

Garland fell on top of her, crushing her with his weight as the two rockets impacted where she'd stood only a fraction of a second ago. The noise of the blasts completely deafened her, leaving nothing but a steady ringing in her ears, and she pressed her eyes closed, waiting for the next salvo to blow them both into morsels, or turn them into leaky pieces of meat, depending on which of the securitrons' weapons fired first.

But nothing came. She could only feel Garland on top of her, uselessly protecting his head with his arms.

"Garland."

No response. She only heard herself from far away due to the ringing in his ears, but she was certain he could hear too.

"_Garland_."

"H... huh?"

"Get up, get up! They're not firing."

"What?"

"Get off me! I need to disable that door before the backups come online!" She kicked at him, and he got the message, rolling off her, still dazed. The back of his neck was bloody and his back seemed to have caught quite a bit of shrapnel from the blast, bleeding tears ripped into his leather armour.

"I'm... kinda hurt, I think."

"You're fine," En rapped, even though she had no idea if he was – there was no time to check. "Come on." Her ribs felt like they were completely crushed. She hoped none of them were broken, but like Garland's injuries, that didn't matter right now. They had to get through that door!

En got to her feet, briefly noticing that she was miraculously unscathed, and staggered towards the door.

"Do not go in there!" House commanded, "I forbid you from going in there!" he had reappeared on the screen, after it had gone black for a while. His backup systems were powering up, including his securitron control transmitters and presumably, his ability to place that door on lock down as well. When she saw the console, En realized why the bots hadn't continued firing: one rocket had gone clean out the window, and the other had impacted right into the transmitter, blowing it, and a large part of the console, into a mess of twisted metal and electrical parts.

"Don't listen to him," En quickly said. "He's stalling, waiting for his backups to come online." She quickly stuck her screw driver between the keypad and the wall, and ripped off the front. The wires looked like spaghetti, but she knew how the things worked.

"If you go in there," House threatened, "Your home towns will burn. You can still stop this _insubordination_, and I will settle for just your lives! But if you persist, New Arroyo and what used to be Shady Sands will _burn_."

"Shit man, they got me good," Garland slurred, still disoriented from the explosion.

En said nothing and yanked one of the wires free. This was the one from the processor. Now to hook it up to the relay and give it a jolt by pressing a key...

The keypad beeped and the door slid open. "Ha-_ha_!"

"Stop," House said, his voice pleading. "Please. Don't go in there."

"We got our point across, didn't we?" Garland asked her, his senses apparently back.

"Please," En didn't believe a word. "He's just hoping we'll lose some time listening to him so his bots can blow our guts out. Come on, inside!"

"Miss Tessara," House asked, sounding completely sincere. "You win. Please. Don't go inside."

She still wasn't convinced. Whatever it was inside there, it'd make for a far better pressure point than just the open door. "If we've won, then you won't mind us making sure we have a few guarantees, do you? We're going in there, and that's final."

"Hey En..."

"No, not 'hey En'," she snapped at Garland. "We need to be sure." Then, to House, "We're not going in there to kill or destroy you. I promise. But I want to make sure you're not going after our home towns."

At that moment, the securitrons came back online. "Shit, Garland get in here," En shouted as the bots readied their rocket launchers for another volley. En shot her hand out and grabbed Garland by the collar, pulling him inside and slamming her hand down on the door closing mechanism as the securitrons fired.

The door slid closed and the rockets impacted against it, two terrible blows striking a big dent, but the door held.

"You alright?" she quickly asked.

"Yeah I think so. Shit, that first blast did Hell on my back."

"Come on, let's see what we're gonna see."

They turned to look at their surroundings. Before them was a short corridor flanked by all sorts of machines and computers, sunk into the depressions on either side of the walkway, and all hooked up to one another. It looked like the bridge of a sci fi spaceship. At the end was what looked to be a great altar, made of metal and glass. A console stood just before it.

En went to stand in front of the console. It only had one dial. One said OPEN, the other said CLOSE. The dial stood in the centre now, between OPEN and CLOSE.

"I can't see through this glass," Garland said, hanging over the altar. No, wait, not an altar. It looked more like a sarcophagus. So House probably wasn't an A.I. at all. The heart monitor behind the contraption confirmed it.

"I think this console will help," En said. "Ready to say 'hi' to the real House?"

Garland nodded. "Beam him up, Scotty."

Realizing it was inappropriate to call out the misquote now, En just said, "Righto," and turned the dial to OPEN.

There was the hiss of pressurized air escaping, and a short repeating beep sounded.

_Beep beep beep beep beep_

More pressurized air came free, this time from under the opaque glass lid of the sarcophagus. En could even see the gas escaping in two white geysers.

Then the lid swung open. A mechanical arm unfolded from inside the container, raising an oval metal disc out of the steel coffin. On it was what was left of Mr. House.

En had to contain a gasp of shock, and clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw the creature that was now held before them, the disc rotating to bring Mr. House to face them.

"Nnnooo..." the creature wailed, its voice no more than a wheezing breath.

She now realized who House only communicated through a screen.

Before them was suspended the desiccated remains of a man, no more than a skeleton with atrophied muscles and stringy tendons drawn over it. Its skin was a mummified brown in colour, with dead veins running across its surface, on top of what remained of the muscles and tendons. En saw each and every one of its ribs, and several drains, hoses and plugs went into the body between them. The thing's pelvis jutted out and its penis was a dried, shrivelled peanut. En wished she hadn't looked there. She felt sick to her stomach.

And then there was the face, toothless, a skull with leathery skin drawn over it, sunken eyes that clearly no longer saw, the head bald except for a few long, stringy white hairs falling over the face. The neck looked like it could no longer support the head, making it roll from one side to the other. The head was crowned with a leather band, through which ran plugs right into the skull that, presumably, were implanted into the brain.

"Oh God," En breathed. "This is..."

Garland only said, in a hoarse voice, "Yeah."

"Whhhh... what hhhhave you... done?" the horrible, pitiable abomination wheezed.

The smell of antiseptic, formaldehyde, and dead skin washed over En. She felt her stomach contract. What kind of terrible creature was this? "We... we said we didn't want to kill you," En said, just to say something.

The eyes, with yellow, dried sclera and dull dark brown irises rolled toward her. So they could still see.

"So this... is hhhow En T-hhhhessara looks. And G-hhhharland Rhhhheilly." The eyes went to Garland while the jaw worked to speak, something it hadn't done in what must have been centuries. "My... my khhhhillers."

"I... said we weren't here to kill you," En said again. "We can just unplug you from the securitrons, and, and, and from the rest of your interface you can use against us, I'll, I'll find a way to make that work, and then, then you can just go back into your – "

"Nhhhhoo..." the remnant wheezed. "Too... late... organisms... c-hhhhontammmmminated. T-hhhh... two yhhhears mmmaybe."

"Look, there must be a way to – "

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Black blood exploded from the impacts, four of them striking the thing in the chest, and a fifth in the forehead, blowing its desiccated brain all over the metal dish it was attached too. The thing slumped forward, still attached to the oval disc, the blood running out of it in black sticky rivulets, pooling on the metal floor. Now Mr. House was truly dead.

"You promised, kid. I didn't," Garland said, his pistol still aimed at the dried husk of Mr. House. "No sealing him back into his coffin. You know this had to be done or we'd never have peace."

En's eyes clouded with tears, more due to the horrible state this creature had been in, than to Garland's execution of it. "Yeah... I guess, but..."

"We're doing it a fucking favour," Garland said, holstering his pistol. "This was grotesque. And it wouldn't live for more than two more years anyway, it said so itself."

"He," En corrected, sniffing and wiping her tears. "Not it. He."

"Well, whatever. We opened this stasis chamber or whatever the fuck it is, and I'm guessing this thing was encased sterile. So the bacteria in the air – "

"I _know_, Garland," En snapped. "... I know."

"Come on. Let's get out of here. This place makes my skin crawl."

"... Yeah. So we're safe now?"

"Think so, yeah," he said, looking back at Mr. House, hanging lifeless from the metal bed he was grafted to.

"I wonder what his first name was," En said out of the blue. She didn't know how she'd thought of that.

"I don't know. Whatever it was, this thing lost its first name and its humanity long ago."

"This is just... crazy. Why do people choose to – "

"I don't know, kid. Come on, I'll buy you a beer in the sun."

God yes, the sun. How she longed to see it and feel it on her face. To be out of this horrible, technological crypt, this electronic nightmare place. "Yeah, I need to get out of here."

"We both do. C'mon."

He walked back towards the door, and En turned to follow him. As she did, she saw something strange. "Hey Garland, look."

"Mm?"

On a computer stood three glass orbs, each filled with water and a small touristic scene, the name of the location marked below it. There was one for Nellis AFB, one for a place called Jacobstown, and one for Primm. En recognized them. They were snowglobes.

"Yeah," Garland said. "House asked me to keep an eye out for them first time we met. He apparently collected them. Said he loved looking at them long ago."

"I wish you hadn't told me that," En said, feeling her lower lip tremble.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

Garland went to the door, and as he did so, En saw four identical objects lying between the snowglobes. She realized what they were immediately, and she quickly snatched one, sliding it in the sleeve of her suit without Garland seeing. And her eye fell on something else: three broad plugs, stuck into a large computer, one reading "SECURIT", one with "JANE" on it, and one with "VICTOR".

Feeling her face contract in a hateful grimace, she grabbed the one marked "VICTOR" and yanked it out.

Garland had gotten the door open, and they both found themselves back in House' audience chamber. The enormous screen was dark, with only two words at the bottom, in monochrome green interlaced text: "CONNECTION LOST".

En stood looking at the screen, and without humour, she said, "The House has gone bust."


	68. Greed

**SIXTY-EIGHT**

**A drinks stand on the Strip**

**July 19****th**

**18:01**

The sun drove away the nightmare, as it always did. The time in the grotesque torture chamber that had been House' abode felt like a film she'd seen, or someone else's memories. Thankfully.

Arcade had quickly looked over Garland's injuries to the back of the head, neck and back, and after picking some shards of metal and shreds of fabric out of them, had declared them 'flesh wounds, painful but not life threatening', slapped a bandage on them and made Garland pop a few pills. They'd left the 38, telling their friends they'd explain later.

The street itself was mostly the same, except that the securitrons stood there, motionless, the army faces on their monitors staring at nothing. Without orders, the things couldn't work. It was only a matter of time before someone realized the things were completely inert, and that they basically could do whatever they wanted. En hoped there wouldn't be bedlam ensuing, but honestly, she didn't care all that much. All she wanted was to go home.

Garland had bought her a beer, like he'd promised, and he stood there with her, leaning on the counter, looking lost in thought. It seemed she hadn't been the only one the entire scene had made an impression on.

Twice now, Garland had been unwilling to spare someone's life, even though it had been her intention. And twice, his solution had been the most practical, she had to admit, but still... Just shooting someone in cold blood like that... she was glad she wasn't able to bring herself to do it.

"So what happens now?" Garland asked. "Going home, or what?"

"That's the idea, yeah. Shame I'll have to go alone, but it'll be good to be home again."

"Mm. Don't think I'm going back though."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "Not much left for me there. Brother was my last family, and friends, meh, I can always make new ones here."

"Yep, that's true." She definitely wasn't suggesting he'd come back to New Arroyo with her, that was for sure. The guy had helped her out on occasion and he'd been more or less fair to her, but that didn't make him neighbour material. No, let him find his own way.

"C'mon, let's get back to the 38. Pack our stuff and see what we'll do."

"Okay."

They walked back, still in a surprisingly calm New Vegas, given the inert securitrons, and got into the elevator again.

"You know," Garland said, "Now that the bots are mostly gone, except for Jane who seems to be going about her regular routines, we can operate the elevator ourselves, right?"

"Mm, why?"

"I always wanted to do this," he said with a grin, and pressed the button above the penthouse, marked "Roof."

"Ooh yeah, nice," En agreed. "Hold on, make a stop past the suites first. I promised that sign making guy I'd make inspirational photos. One from the roof of the 38 would be nice."

"Sure."

En quickly dashed to her suite, snatched up the polaroid, and got back into the elevator.

The doors opened, and En saw nothing but blue sky. "Wow, this is breathtaking!" she said, getting out of the elevator and walking towards the railing. There was a considerable bit of wind here, but she supposed that was because of the altitude. She could see the horizon now, the brown hills and slopes of the Mojave, and walking even further, New Vegas came into view below. She carefully looked down over the railing. Shit that was a long drop. The street was a narrow strip of gray, the people walking on it no bigger than dots.

Garland came to stand beside her. "Dang. Makes me dizzy, looking down."

"Totally."

"So hey."

"Mm?"

"Since you'll be going home, you won't be needing that chip anymore, will you?"

She knew he'd give it one last try. "Suppose not. But I'm still keeping it."

He turned toward her. "Look. You don't need it anymore, you said so yourself. And if you want to keep it, fine. Just let me borrow it for a second." He held out his hand, presuming he was being perfectly reasonable. His trench coat flapped in the wind.

"No. Not until you tell me what you need it for. I told you already." She still didn't trust the guy. The way he could kill people in cold blood also meant he was perfectly capable of telling lies or throwing people in front of the wheels.

"And I told _you_ already that I can't tell you, but that it won't be anything that comes back on you."

She shook her head. Not good enough. "No, Garland. Don't take this the wrong way, but your track record with truth and lies hasn't been exactly great."

"Yeah, well, this is true. It's nothing you could ever experience any negative effects from."

"So tell me."

He was silent for a while. "I can't."

"Then you're not getting it," En said. "And that's final."

He took a step closer to her and En felt her stomach tighten. They were on the roof, just the two of them, no one would find out if he made her disappear now. Shit, she'd been stupid to come up here with him, but dammit, it's not like she had a reason to expect _this_.

"En. Give me the chip. That's all I ask."

She involuntarily took a step back and felt her back hit the technical booth installed on the roof. Still, she swallowed, and said, "No, Garland. Don't try to intimidate me, not after what we've been through together. I'm not giving it to you."

He took another step closer, and the way he lowered his head and carried his arms further from his body showed that he was planning on doing just that. Oh god this had been a mistake! She'd taken precautions but still, her mouth went cork dry and her stomach contracted into a hard ball.

"Garland. Stay back. Please, don't do anything stupid."

But his hand shot out, the fingers clamping around her throat, pinning her against the wall. The force was so great that En felt her larynx would simply be crushed. She felt her tongue coming out of her mouth, and she clawed at his arm in a pointless struggle. The pressure became even higher when he applied more force, and with one hand, lifted her off her feet.

"You listen here, kid," he growled through gritted teeth, as En struggled, kicking the air, her heels thudding against the concrete of the technical booth. "I need that chip."

En couldn't say anything in return, her air completely cut off.

"I can break that soft, weak little neck of yours in a second. Now _give it to me_."

The blood pressure in her head grew, and the side of her skull began pounding with intense pain. This guy was going to hang her if she didn't give it to him. Choking and sputtering, she reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and fished out the chip, holding it out in front of her.

_Now let me go please let me go_

He did, letting her fall to the ground in a heap. He raised the chip to his eye and flicked it up, making it spin through the air, and caught it, letting it slide into his pocket. "Thanks, kid. Bout time you saw reason."

En got to her hands and knees, coughing and hacking. Her windpipe felt searing hot on the inside, burning with every breath.

"And just so you know, just so we're clear," he said, trying to sound gentle and compassionate, "it was just a threat, okay kid? I never would have harmed you."

"Fuck you, you piece of shit," En grated hoarsely, rubbing her throat. "Shown your... true colours now. Thought you were... more decent than this."

"I do what needs to be done. Go home, kid." And then he said the same thing he'd told her after Benny's death. "Your journey's over."

En saw his boots turn around and walk back to the elevator. But there was one thing he didn't know.


	69. The Incomplete Stone

**SIXTY-NINE**

**Rooftop of the Lucky 38**

**July 19****th**

**19:38**

By the time she'd picked herself up, and the elevator had come back up, she knew Garland would be gone.

To use that chip, probably. He'd been trying to get a hold of it for so long, so he wouldn't waste time trying to use it. And he'd be in for a surprise.

She ignored the burning in her windpipe whenever she drew breath, and half-ran, half-stumbled to the elevator, slapping her hand on the elevator button.

It took a few seconds for the elevator to come up, and as she waited, she noticed the polaroid camera, lying on the roofing. It must have fallen when Garland grabbed her. Several square white papers lay next to it. Forget it, no time to pick that stuff up. When the elevator came, she rode it first to the suites, to make sure he was gone. He was, and so were his friends. All their rooms were empty. The bastard had prepared it in advance. All that was left was the eyebot. He apparently hadn't found it worth the effort to take it along.

En wondered if his friends had known about his plan. She doubted it. She didn't know about Cass or that creepy sniper dude, but there was no way Veronica or Arcade would have allowed him to almost wring En's neck for that chip. No way.

But it was what it was.

She spun around and called the elevator again, riding it down to the casino floor.

"Oh hey Ennie, what the Hell happened?"

Leza, Melissa, Sunny and Ringo were on the casino floor, having a drink, presumably waiting for En to arrive.

"Why'd House wanna see you so early?" Melissa asked.

"It's... taken care of," she told them. "Did Garland just come through here?"

"He did," Ringo said, and Sunny added, "With his friends. Like the Devil was on his heels. Didn't say a word."

"Bastard," En hissed quietly. "Where'd he go?"

"They split up outside," Melissa said, lighting one of Ringo's cigarettes. "Pedo went one way, his friends the other."

"Okay, thanks," she quickly said, running past them.

"Sweetie, what happened?" Sunny asked.

"I'll explain later."

She ran outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, and yes! There he was, skulking down the street, glancing behind him and around all the time, looking guilty as Hell. Bastard. The joke was on him though, he'd soon find out.

Taking care to stay well hidden, she shadowed him as he kept going, past the Gomorrah casino, and from there in the direction of the Tops.

A-_ha_. That was probably where he was headed. But what the Hell would he be doing there?

She kept following him, past the casino building, seeing him go into the back alley that led to the service entrance. Yep, he was definitely going for the Tops.

When he was in the alleyway, but not yet too close to the actual entrance, En saw him take something long and cylindrical out of his trench coat and screw it onto something else. A silencer.

Then he walked up to the guard at the service entrance, raised his pistol and _clack!_, fired a round right into the man's face. The guard hadn't stood a chance, falling to the ground, dead instantly. Jesus that was ruthless.

After making sure the guard was well and truly dead, Garland quickly looked behind him to see if no one had followed. But En was hiding behind a stack of dumpsters, able to look right in between two of them, and there was no way he could see.

Satisfied he was alone, he went into the Tops.

As soon as he was out of sight, En quickly tore off her clothes so she was wearing the stealth suit again. She pushed the earwig in her ear and said, "Okay Stel. When I uh... when I tap the back of my left hand with my right hand, I want you to engage stealth mode, can you do that?"

"OF COURSE."

Garland had borrowed that suit to her. Well, he wasn't gonna get it back now, that was for sure. It felt a bit icky to wear something that bastard had given her, but she was going to use it against him now.

Why hadn't the fucker simply told her what he needed it for? Asshole.

Her clothes stashed between the dumpsters, she sneaked after Garland, seeing him round the corner just as she went through the door. A gut feeling came over her and she tapped her hand.

"ENGAGING STEALTH. BATTERIES AT EIGHTY-ONE PERCENT."

The feeling had been true, because Garland's face reappeared from behind the corner not even half a second later, checking if no one was following. If she stayed motionless, she'd be undetectable. The face disappeared again.

She crept down the hallway, hearing him go up the metal service stairs, and followed.

"SOUND DAMPENING ENGAGED, BATTERIES AT SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT."

Still plenty of batteries, but still, she tapped her hand again. The suit's stealth mode disengaged, but the sound dampeners remained active, reducing her footfalls on the metal to quiet taps. Good girl.

She emerged into the corridor where Benny's room was, and was just in time to see Garland walk up to another guard and _clack! clack!_, shoot him in the head. He caught his casings before they even hit the ground. Was this the same guy as the man she'd known before? He'd always been impatient and domineering but this was pure ruthlessness. She slowly realized that this man was most likely a psychopath.

He jimmied the lock to Benny's room, and after throwing a glance up and down the corridor, went in. En was just in time to activate stealth mode again. Amazing he didn't think of the fact that she still wore the suit.

Stealth still active, she sneaked into Benny's room, through the half-open door.

Garland had gone into the bathroom, and she followed. The secret entrance behind the mirror, right.

She crept after him, and saw him standing in front of the robot, fishing the platinum chip out of his pocket.

"Well hello, boss!" the robot called out, sounding positively chipper.

"I've got the chip," Garland told the robot. "Will this work?"

"Sure thing, buddy! Just slip it right into my receptacle here!"

"Finally," Garland grunted as he pushed the chip into the robot's slot. "This had better work, you hear me?"

"Of course I hear you, partner!"

"So go on, then. Do it."

"You got it, pal!"

A silence fell.

"And?" Garland snapped impatiently.

More silence.

"Hey, bot! Say something! Is it working?"

En doubted that it would.

"Sorry champ, this chip doesn't appear to contain any data."

"Of course it doesn't, House deleted it," Garland barked. "You said you could retrieve deleted data, so do it!"

"I'd love to, boss, but there's really _no_ data on here. Not even any deleted items."

There wouldn't be any data, no. Because the object she'd snatched from between House's snow globes was a round, silver chip. Remotely similar to the platinum one she had hidden away, taped under a slot machine in the 38 right now. She didn't know why House had had them made, but bastard Garland was holding a worthless gambling chip, one that didn't even look much like the original.

Surprise, motherfucker!

"What?" Garland half-shouted incredulously. "No data? None at all?"

"Nope. Not even a single bit, chum."

He stood there, in front of the bot, his jaw working, his hands going from his sides to his pockets and back again over and over. "Dammit dammit _dammit_!" he snarled finally, and then came the realization. "... It was all for nothing."

"BATTERIES AT FIFTY PERCENT."

The sound of running footsteps came. "He's in there, get him!"

Garland's head whipped toward the sound of the footsteps and he hissed, "Shit!"

Two times he'd forgotten about the CCTV system.

En ducked away into a dark corner of the secret corridor as Garland took off, running for the exit, hoping to make a getaway before the other guards got a shot at him. He didn't succeed, because En heard several gunshots ring out, and orders being shouted.

The sounds moved away from her as Garland's pursuers ran off.

"Disengage stealth."

"YOU GOT IT."

Now, to examine this bot. The guards were all chasing after Garland, so she should be fine, and this way the batteries could recharge for her exit.

"Well hi there!" the bot greeted her. Now she remembered! When she'd escaped this place the first time, more than a week ago, this bot had been here too! With its silly smiley face on its monitor. She'd been too confused to pay him mind then, but dammit, she remembered him now!

"Uh hello?" she greeted. "Uh... what are you?"

"Who, me?" the robot asked, so cheerfully he sounded like he was ready to explode with joy. "I used to be a securitron, but now I'm not."

"What do you mean?"

"Benny reprogrammed me!"

"... why?"

"Why, so I could help him take over House's business, of course," the bot explained, apparently paying no mind to the fact that this kind of information was probably very, _very_ secret.

"Is that was Garland was doing?"

"Yep! Same thing as Benny! Upload the data on the platinum chip so he can control the securitrons and the rest of House's systems."

Why was this bot telling her all this? Didn't it have discretion protocols? Still, might as well wring it for all the information it had. "So if you had the data on the platinum chip, you could take over his entire network?"

"Oh yes! The whole thing! That's what I was programmed to do!"

"And you're telling me all this? Someone you don't know?"

"Yes!" it exclaimed. "Yes I am!"

"Why?"

"Because Benny programmed me to! He had an accomplice do all kinds of work on me to remove my inhibition protocols, and she did! She removed them all!"

"So you... do anything anyone tells you to do?"

"Yes!" he cheered. "Isn't that something? It's why that other guy gave me the nickname 'Yes Man'!"

"Kinda yeah. But... if I inserted that platinum chip, does that mean I'd get control of all these systems?"

"Sure does! All you have to do is say you want me to work for you, and as soon as I've got the chip, I'll pass over all control to you! I just _can't say no_!" It belted it out like it was overjoyed at the whole thing.

"Without a password, or an ID, or anything?"

"I _literally_ can't say no!" It called out, ecstatic.

"But... that's crazy."

"Yes! Yes, it is!"

"So... all I have to do is bring you that chip, and I basically own the whole of New Vegas?"

"_Yes!_ The whole thing!"

"Shit."

"That's what the other guy said too!"

"Okay," she said. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. She had to get this bot to a safe place, before Garland made another attempt. "Here's what I want you to do."

"Yes! Please, boss me around like a red-headed step child!"

"I want you to roll out of here, and to the Lucky 38."

"Sure thing! Never mind that Mr. House will blow me into spare parts on the spot, you got it! Rollin' there right now, to get blown to bits!"

"House won't be a problem."

"I wouldn't care if he was!" the robot cheered, overjoyed.

"Uh... yeah. Well. I want you to roll to the Lucky 38, it's not locked down anymore, take the elevator up, and..." Hmmm, where to stash him. "... take it all the way up to the rooftop." Yeah, that would be a terribly appropriate place for it to stay. On the rooftop where Garland had choked the fake chip out of her. "Wait there until I come back. That gonna work?"

"Sure! I'll just stand there motionless until you come for me!" It seemed to be immensely glad to do so.

"Cool. Get movin'."

"Gettin' movin' right now!"

The bot rolled past her, and down the corridor. It'd probably be able to make a somewhat successful escape with all the guards running after that fuckface Garland. She didn't care whether they caught him or not, but most important was how long he'd keep them busy. So run, trench coat, run for your life.

He apparently had quite a bit of endurance in his old quadriceps femoris and triceps surae, because there were no guards when she sneaked out, stealthed just to be sure. Yes Man was rolling merrily along down the street, so he'd made it out without incident too. Good.

She threw her gear back on and went on back to the 38 herself, strolling at a leisurely pace. Garland probably wouldn't show his face anymore after this. There was no Mr. House to hold his virtual hand over his physical head right now. Maybe he made it to the gates, maybe he got shot or arrested on the way. Who cared.

"So, what happened?" Sunny asked as she walked back inside. Her friends were still sitting there, nursing various drinks.

En sighed. "Basically, our friend with the trench coat decided he'd had enough of asking me for my chip, so he choked it out of me instead." She tilted her head to the side to show the forming bruise on her neck.

A chorus of "What?" resounded.

En ignored the indignation. "At least he thought he did. He just slipped him a fake."

"Where's he now?" Melissa said, standing up, looking ready to tear him limb from limb. A fistfight between those two would be a sight to behold indeed.

"Yeah, where?" Watkins echoed, far less impressively.

"Gone. Tried to use the chip but yeah, no luck when he was using a fake." She permitted herself a short, diabolical "Haha."

"So you know what he needed it for now?" Ringo asked, ever pragmatic.

"M-hm. It's got something to do with that bot that just rolled through here to take the elevator."

"I was wondering what that was about," Sunny thought out loud.

"Apparently, the data on that chip can be used to take control of all the securitrons, via that bucket of bolts. Funny, by the way. If any of you had just asked what it was here for, it'd have told you the whole story. It's been badly programmed and it has to do everything everyone says."

"So like," Watkins asked, "if you asked it to hop on one leg...?"

"It would," En said, "if it was a Terminator. These bots only have a single tyre, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

"_So_," she went on, "All I have to do is insert the platinum chip, and ta-daaah!, I own New Vegas."

"_We_ own New Vegas," Melissa corrected with a grin.

"Sure, sure," En said, "I suppose I could permit you all to stay on as house slaves."

"You sure you want to do this though, sweetie?" Sunny asked. "I mean, I thought all you wanted was to go home?"

Good question. She hadn't given it any thought yet, because her desire to go home had just disappeared the second she'd learned about the chip. "I do," she said after a moment. "But if I don't finish this right now, then who knows what will happen? Someone else will take all of this over, and what then?"

Ringo shrugged. "That someone might be better suited to ruling the city than you?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "But they could be much worse."

"Well," Sunny said, getting up from her chair. "If you're going to do this, you're going to do it without us, sweetie."

She knew this had been coming. Still, her heart sank.

"We've had enough adventure for a while," Sunny explained. "This has been a wonderful trip, sweetie, but it's time for us to take it easy."

Ringo rose along with her. "As Sunny said, it's been quite exhilarating travelling with you, but we'll have to bow out of this particular adventure."

"So... what are you gonna do then?"

Sunny shrugged, "Oh, look for some property near here. I'm sure there's places we can settle." She came up to En. "You'll be fine without us, En. And hey, this isn't goodbye. We'll still bump into each other now and then, right?"

En felt a burning sensation in her nostrils and her eyes filled with tears. God dammit, she knew it'd be sad to say goodbye, but it still surprised her. "Okay, Sunny. Thanks so much for being my friends, you two."

Sunny seemed to be getting misty-eyed as well, behind her loaner glasses, and threw her arms around En, giving her a long, loving hug. "We'll always be your friends, sweetie. Drop by every once in a while, okay?"

"I will," En said, muffled by Sunny's hair. "I'm gonna miss you guys!"

She felt a comforting hand on the back of her head and knew it was Ringo's. "You can come see us anytime you like, don't forget." She felt something bump into her thigh and knew it was Cheyenne.

"I won't."

Sunny let go and took a step back, smiling. "Be safe, okay? If this whole thing becomes too dangerous – "

"Then I'll make sure nothin' happens to her," Melissa said confidently.

Sunny laughed through her tears. "I'm sure you will, but that wasn't what I meant." Hmm, surprising to see overprotective Sunny laugh at someone saying her duties would be taken care of. "I meant, if this is too much, leave it be and just go home, okay? Your people are expecting you to come back."

"I will, Sunny."

Sunny gave her another, shorter hug, and then said, "Goodbye En."

"Goodbye Sunny."

"Be well," Ringo said. "We'll make sure you know where we live so you can send us a card every now and then."

They made to leave, but even before they turned, a sharp voice stopped them, "Oi!" Melissa stood there, her arms crossed and an angry look on her face. "What? We don't get goodbyes? Hatin' each other is _so_ last month."

Both Sunny and Ringo smiled at their own inconsideration. "Of course, sorry."

Melissa let out a marginally satisfied "Hmph," and received her hugs from both. Watkins was less grumpy about the lack of goodbyes and gave Sunny a long hug, rocking from side to side, and tried the same on Ringo, but he wisely stuck to a short shoulder-hug, to make sure it was clear he didn't want to take advantage. "Bye you guys? This has been like, totally awesome!"

"Like totally for sure," Sunny responded with a teary smile.

They watched them leave, Sunny turning around in the doorway for one last smile and wave, and that was that. No more Sunny and Ringo.


	70. Respite

**SEVENTY**

**The Lucky 38, casino floor**

**July 19****th**

**22:05**

She watched Sunny and Ringo go, realizing her group had just lost the two people that had been in it the longest. The two she started her trip with, breaking into the school building, cracking the safe for exam questions, through Nipton and the horrible crucifixions. The gunfight in Goodsprings.

She was going to miss them.

"Oi, quit yer sulkin', yeah?" resounded behind her.

"Yeah, Ennie, are we like, not good enough for you?"

She knew they were joking, but in a sense, it was kinda the truth. It simply wouldn't be the same without the happy couple.

"Y'know," Melissa said, uncapping a beer bottle (En could tell from the _psshht!_), "You should be happy. In most travels like these, people leave groups because they're dead. They're not."

"Yeah I s'pose. It's just that I'm stuck with you newbies now."

"Like, whoa."

"Yeah, now we're a female triumvirate. Which is kinda cool if you think about it."

"So um, Ennie, what are you planning to do with that chip and stuff?"

"She sat down, taking Melissa's beer. "I don't know about the stuff. And I don't know about the chip yet either." She really didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't leave it like this. Someone would find the bot and use the chip. Or repair House' terminal and operate everything from there. Because really, apart from House himself, the rest of the system was pretty much intact, that was, the backups. The main terminal was ruined, but the backups were still very much intact. The huge inward dent in House' sanctuary door proved that. So all it took was someone with programming skill (not a script kiddie like Leza), to hook the whole thing up to his hacking device and start decking, or whatever it was they called it.

So no, leaving well enough alone was not an option. And to be entirely honest, she was pretty sure there could be a lot worse people using that chip than her. Garland for instance. Man, she'd misjudged him. She'd always figured he was a bit of a pragmatist, but the way he'd throttled her, and executed those bouncers in cold blood worried her. Really worried her. She knew the chance of him reappearing in New Vegas would be nonexistent, but he did know where she lived, and while she didn't think he'd be the type to look for her and exact bloody revenge on her (it takes emotions, something she doubted he really had), it still wasn't impossible.

Then again, he didn't know the chip was fake. Heh heh, sucker. Still, it'd be best to see this through, even though she longed for home. There probably wasn't much danger to it anymore now, especially once she had control of the securitrons.

"I'm thinking it's best that I use this chip and see where it takes us."

"Yeah," Melissa agreed. "It's too exciting to pass up, isn't it?"

"Even though I like, kinda think it's a bad idea, I'm still way too curious not to stick around?" Leza agreed. "And who knows, maybe it's stuff I can take back to the Brotherhood. Get taken back in, you know?"

So you plan to go back?" En asked. When had she made that decision?

"I... think so yeah. Eventually. But I'm not going before this whole adventure is done!"

"Well, then it's decided," En said, getting up. "I'm going to bed now, because it's really late and I got up really early, and tomorrow, we'll see what we're gonna see!"

"Okay," Leza agreed. "Bed time, Melissa."

"I'm bunkin' with you two," Melissa said flatly. "I don't trust that Garland guy. And since you know why he rushed out like that, you're gonna tell us during one of those fruity sleepovers you love to have."

"Yeah, sure," En said. This was actually pretty convenient. _If_ Garland came back for revenge or answers, or both (heh, where had she heard that before?), it'd certainly be good to have Melissa there in the room to dole out a generous amount of ass-kicking. "You bring the alcohol."

"Huh, _sure_," Melissa blew. "We've got all the alcohol we need right here and it's free." She added deed to word and marched over to the fridges, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. "Been a while since I hung on the vodka."

"Umm..." Leza said. "I don't know whether I have to be excited or like, apprehensive?"

Melissa let the bottle of vodka put itself on the table with a loud _bonk_. "Blondie, seriously. I'm not gonna rape you in your sleep, sheesh."

"No, no," Leza quickly defended. "I'm just sayin', you know, it'd a big day and stuff tomorrow and I don't wanna drink myself silly and then get, you know, a really big-ass hangover tomorrow?"

"Yeah," En agreed. "I think it's best if we enjoy in moderation today." She wanted to have a clear head just in case jolly old Garland felt like coming back. "I'll tell you why during the sleepover."

"You expectin' trouble?"

"No, no. Not really." Best not create concern where none was probably needed. "Just... Garland and I didn't really part as friends. No flowers of chocolate were exchanged."

"C'mon, let's turn in," Melissa said. "You can tell us all about it then."

They rode the elevator up to the high roller suites (no Victor to announce it this time, haha!), and headed to their room. The floor was depressingly empty. En recalled the time when they'd settled in, her gang and Garland's bunch making noise, talking, laughing and arguing in the hallway. And now there were just the three of them. Still, three was better than one. She briefly got the imagination forced on her that she was alone in the hallway, the entire floor quiet and dark, no voices or company or life except for herself, and suddenly felt absolutely miserable and lonely. Then the feeling passed again as Leza let her nasal voice sound off, piping up about the Brotherhood and how she'd decided to go back 'because it was, like, home and stuff'. Melissa responded with a half-interested grunt.

Ewgh, that had been a pretty disheartening moment, and she was glad it passed.

The occupied their room, brushed their teeth and did all the things people did before going to bed. They all silently agreed to take turns changing in the bathroom. Not that certain group members were afraid of other group members, but actually totally because of that.

Melissa had chosen the sofa, dragging in her covers from the room she'd shared with Meyers before. Poor Meyers, alone in the cold ground.

The "amazon" wasted no time rearranging the furniture so the beds and sofa were arranged in a triangle, for easy nattering, and they got into their beds, in their night clothes, though Leza had opted to wear a wide black T-shirt over her skimpy top.

It was pretty cozy, sitting in their beds, enjoying the warmth of the blankets.

"So Ennie, what was all the drama with Garland about."

"Yeah... You guys know he was after that chip right?"

Melissa nodded. "Mm."

"Well, he was done asking today."

"Did he like... do something to you?" Leza asked, her eyes widening in concern.

En hoped Melissa wouldn't leap out of bed to go break his neck, but she told them anyway. "He uh... took my chip from me. By force."

Melissa leaned forward, glaring. "He hurt you?"

"Not really, just... made it clear he would if I didn't give it to him. Made it clear to me physically."

This didn't convince Melissa. "So he _did_ hurt you?"

"A bit yeah. He uh... grabbed me by the throat and said he could break my neck in a second if he wanted to."

Melissa's upper lip curled back. "That cuntbag, actin' tough against a teenager. Wait 'til I get my hands on him."

"Yeah, not much of a chance of that happening." She told them about his foray into the Tops, how he'd shot the guards and tried to activate the chip with Yes Man's help. And how his little psycho excursion had ended with him being chased out of the building by the rest of the guards.

"So he just, like..." Leza made a gun with her thumb and forefinger, "... bang bang?"

En nodded.

"Geez, that's... cold. I... never thought he could be like that."

"Yeah," Melissa grunted. "You've probably seen a whole different side of him, haven't you?"

"Yeah, okay, let's not bring that up. It was pure sex, and it was great , but tch, it was nothing more."

"Just sayin'."

"Anyway," En took over again to make sure the conversation didn't turn bitter. "I don't think he'll be coming back here. He's probably long gone to fuck knows where."

"He better stay gone too," Melissa said, her tone fierce. "Fuckhead."

"He will. So hey, did you hear anything from Veronica? Do his friends know what he did?"

"We haven't talked. They all suddenly packed their bags and left. But I'm pretty sure fuckface didn't tell them what he'd done. Be surprised if they'd stand for it."

"That Cass bitch might have," Leza weighed in. "Seems like the type to be okay with that sorta thing?"

"Maybe. Not sure, though," En said. "She seemed to legit feel bad after socking me one."

"So," Melissa changed the subject. "Tomorrow, what?"

"See what we can do with that chip and that bot. And from there on, I'm not sure, really. Maybe get the whole place back in order. Sooner we do it, the less chance we have of people rioting now they realize it's just the NCR keeping things under control."

"Yeah," Melissa agreed. "They wouldn't stand a chance against a real enemy. Women and children, sure, but – "

"I know, Melissa," En cut her off. "I know."

"Just sayin'."

"You've been just sayin' a lot lately?" Watkins pointed out.

"Wouldn't have to," Melissa said, picking up her pillow, "if y'all weren't such screw-ups!" With that, she swung the pillow at Leza's head, hitting her with a glancing blow.

"Yeah we know," En said, grinning, "but you love us and you'd cry like a baby if the pillar got blown up and we got buried under tons of rubble."

"Not sure about _her_. But yeah."

"Hey!" This time the pillow flew at Melissa, hitting her square in the side of the head.

The second pillow-strike got the seriousness out of the air, and Melissa cracked open the bottle of vodka, making it clear that everyone was supposed to drink from the bottle, and pass the thing around. They sat as if around a campfire, passing the bottle around and telling stories. Leza mostly told about the pranks she pulled when she was in the Brotherhood, and En didn't miss the fact that her eyes slightly clouded when she spoke. Yep, she was going back to the Brotherhood alright. And since she was the last person that still had a chance of actually coming home with her, it meant she'd be heading back alone. She'd be seeing her parents again, and Allison, and Chris (rawr), and everyone else, which was yay, but still, having no one to take home with her was a shame. She'd been looking forward to introducing her Mojave friends to her New Arroyo peeps, but seemed it wasn't meant to be. Too bad. Too damn bad.

The evening remained cheerful, and En really enjoyed herself with her two friends, and she was pretty sure they did too. She found herself treasuring these evenings more and more as the end of the adventure came in sight (or as she thought it did), and she figured it wasn't illogical that she did. After all, the less of something you have, the more you enjoy it.

It was around two in the morning when Melissa cast her eyes on En's pip-boy and informed them, "Ey, guys, it's gettin' kinda late innit?"

"Yeah," En had to admit. "We should turn in."

"Shouldn't we, like, take guard duty?" Leza asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"Don't worry blondie. If poopface shows up, I'll smash his face right into the toilet bowl."

"I don't doubt that for a second," En said with a grin.

"Let's um, turn off the lights?"

The room became dark. The sound of the voices, ten metres below, didn't make it all the way up to the high roller suites, but when En listened closely, she could faintly hear the buzzing, the almost inaudible remains of the sounds of people having fun, drinking, winning and losing, laughing, shouting, and doing everything people did in Vegas. It'd be one of her first nights here, and even though she was sad it'd be over soon, it really did feel right that it was.


	71. Dear Friends

**SEVENTY-ONE**

**The Lucky 38, high roller suite**

**July 20****th**

**08:19**

Showers were the most awesome things in the world and anyone who said they weren't were obviously not real people. The water running over your face made you feel like new, no matter how short the night was.

And En's night had been short. The whole sleepover had lasted well into the small hours, but they hadn't slept in, dutifully getting up at seven thirty. It was a big day today.

But not so big that En had to forego her shower for it. She'd snoozed while Watkins showered, and Melissa, well, she didn't much see the advantage of a morning shower, so she'd taken it upon herself to head out and procure breakfast.

Leza had gone downstairs to 'like, get some hot cocoa', and she had the suite to herself, which meant a good long shower was in order. And long overdue.

What would she do once that chip was activated? Would she make herself known as the new ruler of New Vegas, or was it better to keep it a secret for now? Probably, yeah. All the other factions would pounce on her, trying to take advantage of her total inexperience with being the boss.

And did she even want to be the boss? She still wanted to go home most of all. Couldn't she activate the chip, and then let the people of New Vegas have elections or whatever? She certainly didn't feel like making a career out of this. _If_ things all worked fine and she got control over House' entire empire, she'd just be a steward, and see who she could leave it to. Because she didn't want to rule the city, no way, someone else could have that particular headache.

She already had plenty of headaches of her own. Ha-ha.

Maybe carry it over to the NCR? Nah, that'd be totally stupid. Melissa would tear her guts out through her back passage if she even suggested it anyway. Maybe it was just better to leave well enough alone and let everything sort itself out. But then, who would take over House' mantle? Some crazy guy? She couldn't take the risk.

Ugh, she was thinking in circles.

Maybe it was best to find a good candidate herself. There had to be someone suitable she could give the 'keys to the city' to? It was just a matter of finding the right – "

_RRRAK!_

"You _lied_ to me!"

En's eyes flew open and she saw Watkins standing in front of her, the shower curtain pulled away. Her face was red and completely livid.

"Leza what the, what are you – " En stammered, covering herself with her arms as best as she could. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, both the surprise and the crushing feeling of her nakedness completely stifling any structured thought. "What the, what – "

"You _lied_ to me!" Leza shrieked again. "How _could_ you?"

En grabbed the shower curtain and wrapped it around herself. "Leza, what are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know!" she shouted. "Liar!"

"Leza," En repeated, still shaken. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"So who else knew? Huh? I bet everyone knew except me. What the Hell were you thinking?"

En resisted the urge to scream at her for barging into the bathroom shrieking this vague babble. "Leza, please. Calm down, tell me what's wrong."

Watkins jabbed a finger at her. "You _know_ what's wrong!"

"I _don't_!"En felt her patience slowly giving out. This woman better start making sense or she'd pull the shower curtain rod off the wall and beat her over the head with it. She was naked, cold, and wrapped in an icky plastic shower curtain, and that shit would try anyone's patience. "Leza, tell me what's going on."

Suddenly the tears came, but she was no less furious. "Meyers!"

... Oh, fuck.

En felt her stomach contract so hard it hurt.

"You lied about him. About how he died. He didn't have a heart attack."

Shit, shit, shit, who had told her that?! Still, no man overboard, she could still pull this thing out of the fire. "Leza, I don't know what you've heard, but – "

"Oh _fuck you_!" Leza shouted, turning on her heels. "I thought we were friends, but friends don't lie to each other, not about something like this." With that, she stormed out of the bathroom.

God dammit god dammit god _dammit_!

En quickly got out of the shower, towelled herself half-dry and threw her clothes on, almost falling over when her foot got snagged in one of the legs of her pants. Not even tying her boot laces, she barged out of the bathroom, but Leza was gone.

And so was something else. Something was missing. Something she'd thrown over the coffee table before she got into the shower.

Shit, the stealth suit.

Why would she have taken the stealth suit? What did she need it for? It was a great piece of tech, but –

Tech! Shit, she was gonna march back to the Brotherhood with it, to get back in.

Fuck fuck _fuck_. Now she didn't just have to get her friend back, but the damn suit too. What a god damn mess. Leza probably had a ten minute head start over her, so she'd have to run.

And run she did, to the elevator, almost falling because of her untied boot laces. As the elevator descended, she quickly tied her laces, and when the door opened again, she ran out, through the casino floor, slamming open the double doors and emerging in the sunlight, her short hair still wet.

She'd probably gone straight to the gates. She quickly looked back at the door of the 38 and realized she had no way to lock it. She'd have to take the chance and hope people still thought the place was locked tight.

She broke into a run again, weaving between the passersby and crashing into one of them, an Asian man with a tray full of buns, which overturned on the asphalt. He shouted something after her about his drunken master fighting style, but En didn't listen, and didn't care.

There were the gates. The securitrons guarding them simply stood there, their screens dark. One had already been toppled and lay on the ground. NCR troops had taken over gate duty, apparently, no doubt a temporary measure until the NCR figured out what the Hell was going on with the securitrons.

"Easy there, kid," one of the guards said in a bored tone, stopping her at the gate.

En came to a standstill, panting. "Have you seen a blonde woman go through recently?"

"Gotta be a bit more specific, kid," the soldier's partner said with a condescending sneer. "Lotsa blonde women here."

"She's a total knockout," En panted. "Most beautiful woman you've ever seen. Lock of hair over one eye. Probably looked pretty furious. She's my friend and I need to find her."

The second soldier's sneer widened, "Well beauty is subjective, you see – "

The trooper who'd stopped her cut his partner off. "Yeah, she went through here. Carried some kind of suit over her shoulder and some weird round bot hovered around her head."

"Thanks." She quickly fished her pass out of her pocket and showed it to them. "Can you let me through, please?"

The trooper quickly scanned the pass, clearly having no idea what he had to watch out for. Then he gave it back. "Sure, go on. Open the gate!"

The heavy steel gate slowly ground open, and she slipped through as soon as the opening was wide enough, huffing a quick "thanks!" at the guard.

Freeside was as it always was, and En didn't give the scenery much attention as she darted through, though she did spot the Atomic Wrangler out of the corner of her eye and had to suppress a short stab of melancholy, the memories of a week ago, when she and her friends got along and felt part of an amazing adventure, rushing up.

The gate of Freeside opened easily when she threw her weight against it, and she found herself back in the Wastes. Now where had she gone. Dammit, Leza! She took a moment to breathe, doubling over with her hands on her knees. Her heart thudded from the exertion.

A trader lazily trudged towards the gate, approaching from the south, his pack brahmin moving just as slowly as he did.

"Hey!" she called out to him. Every breath burned in her throat.

"Yeah?"

"You wouldn't happen to have crossed a blonde woman going south just now, would you?"

He grinned his brown teeth bare. "Oh, _her_? Yeah, she was marchin' like she was goin' somewhere and couldn't get there fast enough. Marchin' so fast it made her tits bounce like two ripe – "

"Yeah, alright, alright. Thanks... I guess."

She shot off to the south, running in the direction the trader had come from, over the hill, and as she crested it, she saw Leza walking, a few hundred metres away. Damn, she'd made good time. But she was in sight now, so all En had to do was close the distance without losing sight of her. And she could make out the eyebot and the stealth suit from there.

She broke into a run again, even though her side hurt like it had a white hot branding iron buried inside it. Leza marched at a brisk pace, but En quickly came closer, and she wasn't mad about it – her legs were slowly turning to rubber and the burning in her side was searing hot.

Leza had heard her run, and she turned, waiting for En with one hand in her side. Her face made it clear she didn't want to hear whatever En had to say.

"Okay, Leza..." En panted, out of breath. "Listen... I don't know... what you heard, but..."

Leza seemed to have calmed down, at least, but her tone was icy. "You do know what I've heard."

Doubled over and still breathing hard, En wheezed, "Leza... what have... you heard?"

Better to make sure the other person actually knows the truth before beginning to lie.

Leza set her jaw, looked away, and then said, "Meyers didn't die of a heart attack. That was a lie you told me. Me, and maybe other people too."

"Okay... who told you that?"

Leza put her hand in her side again, defiantly. "It matter?"

"Of course it matters."

Another jaw-set, look-away. "While you were showering, Garland's girlfriend or, like, whatever the Hell she is, came looking for you. We got talking and it like, turned into an argument, I dunno how, but that's when she... sprung that on me. Said Cliff didn't get a heart attack, but that he..." she bit her lower lip to keep it from wobbling, "... hung himself. Because of me." Her voice vanished into a peep and tears streaked down her face.

Shit, she'd heard everything. It wasn't too late yet, though. She didn't allow it to be too late. "What, and you just believe that?" She made sure to sound indignant enough. "Your friends say one thing, and some... some frustrated bitch tells you something else, and you just _believe_ that?"

"Why would she lie, En?"

"To hurt you of course! To drive us apart! To get back at you for fucking her guy! Geez, Leza, open your eyes!" She didn't feel a single shred of guilt. This was for the greater good. She was lying to her friend for the greater good. It wasn't about wrong or right, it was about necessity. "This woman is just trying to turn us against each other."

"Okay." Leza said. "Tell you what. I'm giving you the chance now. Admit that you lied. Just... admit it. That's all I ask."

Gotta stick it out to the end now. Once you start lying, you can never stop. There's no going back from that road. "No, Leza. It's the truth."

Leza's eyes brimmed with fresh tears, but they didn't fall. "Swear it to me. Look me in the eye, knowing how much I care about you, and swear on our friendship that you're telling the truth."

As En stood in the morning sun opposite her friend, she briefly doubted. Her resolve faltered slightly, and she felt an inner voice telling her to just tell the truth and admit to the lie, and why they'd done it. To just say they'd done it to protect her, to spare her the hurt. Maybe Leza would accept it if she explained, maybe she'd stop what she was doing and come back. But maybe she was just testing to see En's response, pressuring her to see if she'd confess. Maybe she wasn't as convinced as she appeared to be, but just wanted to press her into a confession by acting as if she was certain.

Briefly, En felt a pang of guilt, but she didn't allow it to be any more. Once you started lying, you can't stop. And she'd long passed the point of no return.

She looked her friend in the eye. "Leza... I swear."

Leza's face broke, and En realized she'd blown it.

"How can you do this, En?" the tears fell now, streaking down her cheeks, and all the anger was gone, only her broken heart was visible on her face. "You were my friend, En," she cried. "I _cared_ about you. And you just... swore something, knowing it was a lie."

No point continuing the act now. She'd been sure all along, and she'd asked En to swear to offer her one last chance to confess. And En had given her the ultimate insult. "Leza," En tried to explain. "We lied to protect you. You already took it so hard, and if we'd told you – "

"The _lie_ hurts so much _fucking_ more!" Leza wailed, all her beauty gone, twisted into a mask of grief and pain. Her hands were balled into fists of unmight. "I know I'm just a stupid worthless nobody, but that doesn't mean you can just step on my soul!"

"You're not a worthl – "

"I never had any friends in my whole life, En!" Leza shouted, tears flowing free. "Nobody ever cared about me apart from what I was like in bed! Every night I lie in bed and I _hate myself._ I hate myself for being nothing more than a fuck for the night. I hate myself for having nothing more than this... this _body_ to get affection with."

Oh no, this was going all wrong. What the Hell had this girl been bottling up all this time? This whole thing just came out of nowhere.

"I was never anything more than a piece of meat to people, and every day it hurts like Hell! And then I finally found some people that called me their friend. I thought, this will finally be different. I'll finally find people I can _belong_ to. People who care about me as more than just that dumb slut you can blow off steam with. People who don't talk behind my back because they're afraid to tell me I'm really just a piece of meat." Her voice again weakened to a peep and she cried into her arm. "And now they do this to me."

If En didn't feel any guilt about the lying before, she did so now. What had she done. This wasn't some ditz putting on an act. This girl's heart was completely broken. But how could she have known? She'd never mentioned any of it. "Leza... listen. I mean this. I've been glad you were with us _every single day_. I _am_ your friend. What we did was stupid, and it was a mistake, but we did it because we care about you, and – "

"How can I still believe a single thing you say?" Watkins wailed. "You just swore on our friendship and _it was a lie_. I can't trust anything you say anymore."

"Why would I?" En tried to argument. "Why would I lie about this? If I didn't care about you, I could just let you walk away and save my breath. Why would I keep trying if I didn't care?"

"For the same reason you lied about Meyers," Leza said, her tear-streaked face hard. "To quiet your conscience. To tell yourself what a good person you are for keeping the truth from people."

"No, Leza, no, you have no idea how much you break my heart saying that – "

"Do you mean that? Or is it like, more lies?" She was slowly calming down again. "I'm sorry, but I can't live with people who tell me lies. I can't be around people and constantly have to wonder if what they're saying is true, or if it's, like, just a trick."

"Leza, I know I fucked up, but I swear – "

"Oh you _swear_, do you?" Leza immediately pounced on the word. "Well I'm sorry if I don't have like, much trust in your word anymore."

Shit, dumb thing to do. "Leza..." En asked, making sure Leza saw how horrible she felt. "Can we still fix this? What can I do to convince you that I really do care about you? That that wasn't a lie?"

Leza sniffed. "... I don't think there's anything you can do anymore, Ennie. Maybe it's just my fault. Maybe it's just because of who I am. Maybe if I was more interesting, then – "

"Don't say things like that. Leza. Please." She held out her hand. "You have no idea how horrible I feel right now. Come back with me."

"Because _you_ feel horrible?"

Gah, now she was just being unreasonable! "No, Leza, because you're my friend and I want you to understand how much I care about you."

"_You_ _want_ me to understand? Is it always about what you want?"

Oh come on. "Leza, you're not being fair. This isn't easy for me."

"It's like, no picnic for me either." She shook her head, and En knew her decision was final. "No, Ennie. I can't go on with you. It's probably my fault more than yours but... I can't be friends with someone who lies to me." She abruptly turned and began to walk away. "Thanks for putting up with me for so long, it was nice to feel like I had friends, even if it wasn't real. I have to go. Don't follow me. Goodbye Ennie."

Her mind was made up, and En accepted the fact that she wouldn't be able to change it anymore. But that she'd broken Leza's heart and that she'd lost someone she did, at the core, care about would have to wait. Because as much as she felt bad for Leza, she couldn't let her leave. Not like that. Not while she still had...

"Leza. You can't have it."

Leza stopped but didn't turn.

"My stealth suit, Leza. I'm sorry, but I can't let you have it. Give it back. Please."

Leza's back bent as she sighed in disappointment.

"I'm sorry I hurt you so badly, Leza. And I know why you want it, but it's mine. You can keep the eyebot, I don't care, but not the suit."

Still no answer.

"Leza?"

Nothing.

"You know it's not right to keep it." The fact that she'd kinda borrowed it and never given it back herself wasn't relevant now. "I need it, or I'll get hurt."

Leza remained still.

"Leza, come on. Don't – "

"You want your god damn stealth suit?" Leza snarled, whirling around. "Here! I hope you fucking get buried in it you selfish little bitch!" With that, she hurled the stealth suit at En, the technological marvel slapping against her chest and falling to the ground.

"Leza, hey, come on you know I need – "

"Now _go away_!" Leza shrieked, taking a step toward En and giving her a hard shove with both hands, so hard En was knocked backward. Her heel snagged behind a piece of railing and she fell down, first on her ass and then with the back of her head, striking the sand hard enough to send a painful blast through her skull.

"Dammit Leza," she growled, trying to get up, but as she opened her eyes, she briefly saw Watkins' foot kick the sand in front of her. There was a yellow flash that obscured Watkins' boot, and the next moment, En's eyes felt like they were being stabbed by hundreds of sharp needles. "Ah!" she yelped, clapping her hands in front of her eyes. Ah god dammit, Leza had deliberately kicked them full of sand!

Fuck, she couldn't see a thing, and the sand ground in her eyes, making them feel like they were being pulled across a cheese grater.

The headache began pounding more intensely, and fireflies zipped across her black vision. Oh shit, no. Her ears began to shriek.

"Leza... Leza," she managed to breathe. "Pl... please don't... don't go... I'm.. guh... getting one."

If she was left alone while she seized, anything could happen to her. It usually took several minutes before she was back in a shape where she could reasonably defend herself. A lot could happen in the Wastes in a few minutes.

"L... Leza... stay... til... duh... done... pl... ease," she managed to utter before the shrieking became deafening and the headache drowned out all thought and feeling. She could feel her muscles begin to twitch.

As the attack took her, she heard Watkins' voice, millions of miles away. "Oh sure, En. Fake another seizure. That'll help."

Then there was nothing but blinding light and shrieking, howling pain, and the realization that her friend was walking away and leaving her behind.


	72. Reasoning

**SEVENTY-TWO**

**Somewhere in the Wastes**

**July 20****th**

**Daytime**

It was noon. She could tell from the burning sun high in the sky. Couldn't see it, but she felt it sure enough.

She must have lapsed into sleep right after the seizure. She'd never had that happen before.

There was something strange on her face, something dried and caked. She brought a hand up to feel what it was and realized it was sand she'd wept out during her sleep.

It was a miracle no one had found her during the hours she must have slept. Imagine if they had. En shuddered at the thought. Her fingers found the stealth suit, draped across her belly.

Time to open her eyes.

The eyelids grated with sand as they opened, but it seemed most of it was gone. The first thing she did was check her pip-boy.

Huh, only ten to ten. She'd been out for half an hour, max. It felt like ages, but of course, the sun already burned crazy hard from a very early hour in the Mojave.

Her head throbbed and her knees were weak, but she sat up regardless.

Son of a bitch, she'd really messed that up. Leza was long gone, disappeared south. Left her behind when she was seizing. She must have been really angry to do that.

En sat on her backside, her arms resting on her knees, looking at the ground. Dammit. Sometimes you got away with a lie, and sometimes you didn't. She thought about the statue girl and how she'd disapproved of all the bad and stupid things the woman had done, and realized it was really fucking easy to sit at a school desk and judge. Nobody was going to write down her journey of course – it'd take a really stupid motherfucker with way too much time on his hands to do that – but if they did, then the picture of her wouldn't always be pretty. And everyone would just read what had happened and do what she'd done to the statue girl. Just judge and have opinions and everything. But they didn't know how difficult this all was. How hard it was to balance all these needs and wants, all the while trying not to get killed.

The statue girl had probably thought the same thing at one point during her travels. Must have. Maybe even wished she could just stay at come. But she supposed so did all who lived to see such times, but it wasn't for them to decide. Huh, where was that from again? No matter.

She felt like crap. Leza probably felt the same way. She kinda hoped so, selfish though it was. It at least meant she'd cared.

No point going after her, though. That she'd left her alone during her seizure said everything that needed to be said. Leza would never be persuaded to come back. One less friend. The time when they'd stood on the street of Vegas and posed for a picture together seemed years ago, even though it was just a few days.

Didn't someone say taking a group picture always meant something really bad was about to happen?

She lifted her butt from the sand, trying to ignore the pain and queasiness in her stomach. She actually succeeded in getting to her feet and began the short slog back to Freeside. She hoped Melissa wasn't too worried. Probably not, Melissa wasn't the fretting type. And she hadn't been gone long.

The walls of New Vegas came into view as she crested the hill from where she'd first spotted Watkins, and a short walk took her to the Freeside gate. From there, it was just a few minutes to the Strip.

But hello? Who was that coming out of the King's School of 'I personation'?

Oh, now she had a score to settle.

"You! Hey, you!" she called. "Yeah, you!"

"Okay, listen, I can explain – " Cass began, raising her hands in a defensive gesture.

"Go ahead," En bit at her. "Explain why my friend left in tears. Why she felt betrayed by the only people she thought she could trust. Go on, explain."

"I will if you let me," Cass said, trying to sound unimpressed but not succeeding.

En crossed her arms. "I'm _listening_."

"I went back to the 38 to pick up some of the stuff we left there when we took off. Your friend started bitching at me, cooking up some kind of story about how Garland," she couldn't suppress a laugh at the incredulity of it all, "_supposedly_ grabbed you by the throat and choked you for your chip."

"Yeah. And?" Let her do her explanation first, then drop the bomb on her.

"Well, Garland's my guy and I'm not gonna stand for some dumb floozy telling lies about him. I'm sorry, kid, but my guilt about what I did to you only applies to you, not your friends."

"Yeah. So what'd you tell her?"

"She started going on and on about what a bastard Garland was, and I said that wasn't what she said when she let him fuck her, you know? I was angry."

En briefly felt a stab of guilt when she heard how Watkins had stood up for her. "Yeah. And?"

"Things went from bad to worse, and she said he could have killed her and how that'd make him a murderer and shit."

There it came. En already knew what had happened next.

"So I told her, did she want to know about murder? How 'bout pushing someone to kill himself because you're moanin' and squealin' in the room next to him? And yeah, out it went." She seemed completely unrepentant, telling it as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

En could barely contain her anger. "What... the fuck... were you thinking?"

She shrugged. "Told you, I was rotten to you and I told you I felt sorry, and I do. But your friends? No ties to them. Damn cumslut should've used her mouth for blowjobs like she always does, instead of talking shit."

It was time. "Talking shit, huh? As in, telling lies, right?"

"That's right."

En tilted her head to the side and pulled her collar down, exposing the bruises on her throat. Blue and black, and clearly in the shape of fingers.

Cass tried not to show her shock, but she didn't succeed. En saw her breath briefly stall, and that was all she needed to see. "This a lie, too?"

Cass slowly began to shake her head. "That's... no way. He wouldn't."

"Your 'guy' strangled me for my chip, then shot two security guards in cold blood to get into the Tops. To use the damn chip."

"That's... crazy. He... No, I don't believe – "

"Don't believe me, believe what you've seen with your own eyes. Why did he suddenly want to up and leave?"

"He... he said it was because..."

"Because he thought he could kill anyone he wanted, because he had the chip to protect him anyway. And when he realized the damn thing didn't work, he knew the jig was up. He knew they'd get him for murder, and with House gone, he'd go right to the firing squad. _Again_."

"No, no. No way. Look, I know Garland can be cold sometimes but he'd never – "

"_Oh for fuck's sake, Cass!_" En shouted. "Open your _fucking eyes_!"

Her faith was shaken, but she simply wouldn't be convinced. "I'd... have to talk to him first. Give him the chance to explain."

"Do whatever you want," En said. "You want to give him the chance to tell more lies, go ahead. But you know, deep down, what's true and what isn't. And you cost me a good friend because you refused to see it."

"Yeah, look, like I said, I have no ties to them. I did bad shit to you, but your friends are fair game."

"You know what?" En said with a glare, her patience worn out. "You don't have to worry about upsetting me ever again. I'll make us even."

She took a step toward Cass and without warning, swung her balled fist right into her face. It was a clumsy blow, but it had the power of frustration behind it, and that was enough. Her hand felt like it was crushed into chunks of bone, but the feeling of breaking bone came from Cass' nose. It snapped under the blow, blood immediately gushing from her nostrils. It wasn't just for Leza, it was for Cass' blindness too. She'd had enough.

"Ahh, _fuck_," Cass squealed, staggering backward and holding her hands over her nose, blood dripping out from between her fingers. "You broke my fucking nose!"

"Good, that's what was supposed to happen."

Cass' eyes went up above her bloody hands, rage burning in her pupils. "I'm gonna break ever bone in your b –"

"No, you're not," En said flatly, offering Cass a gun barrel to look into. "You're turning around and getting out of here. And I suggest you don't come back, because by the time you do, _I'll_ be running the show here."

"You?" Cass scoffed, her voice muffled by her bloody hands. "A little brat like – "

"Keep moving."

Cass stood there for a moment longer, panting in pain and anger, trying to gauge if En would make good on her threat, but then she turned and began walking away. "Guess it just won't work out, huh?"

"Guess it won't."

"I run into you from now on, I'm beating you into the ground and taking the caps for treatment of my nose off your unconscious body, you hear me?"

En took her money bag from her belt. There had to be around five hundred caps in there. She tossed it at Cass' feet. "There. That should cover it. It's the closest thing to an apology you'll ever be able to hope for."

Cass' eyes shot fire, and she briefly seemed to consider being defiant and leaving the bag, but she apparently realized caps were more important than her dignity, and stooped to pick it up.

"Go on, Cass. I don't want to see you or Garland ever again."

"Oh," Cass said, grinning her bloody teeth bare. "I have a feeling you will."


	73. Seeking Power

**SEVENTY-THREE**

**The Strip**

**July 20****th**

**11:18**

She'd watched Cass go, then headed to the Strip. The NCR boys at the gate had looked her pass over, again clearly not having any idea what they were looking for, and let her in.

And she hadn't gone far before she saw Melissa in the street, talking to someone, looking like she was asking questions.

"Hey, Melissa!"

Her friend turned her head, noticed her, and then thanked her conversation partner with a smile. "Been lookin' all over for you jill. Where'd you patter off to?"

"Had to go out in the Wastes for – "

"Seen blondie?"

Right, better to tell her right away. "Yeah, uh, Melissa... she won't be coming back."

Melissa stood looking at her, trying to determine if she was joking or serious. "Pull the other one."

"No, seriously, Melissa. She left."

Melissa seemed to give up on trying to make En admit she was joking. "What? Why? Not enough blokes?"

"No, no. Not that." En sighed. "C'mon, let's head back, I'll explain on the way."

"Sure."

They started walking. "Leza, she... she ran into Cass."

"Ugh, her."

"Yeah, her. Apparently they started arguing and Cass just blurted out that Meyers, well..."

"Ah."

"Yeah. She got furious and stormed into the bathroom, demanding an explanation, but nothing I could say was good enough, so she stomped off. I ran after her but I couldn't stop her. She's gone."

Melissa looked pensively down the street as they walked. "Mm. Suppose that doesn't make you shit rainbows, does it?"

"Not really."

"Ey look, people leave," Melissa said. "It happens. No point bein' upset about it. We did what we thought was right by holdin' back the reason Meyers killed himself, didn't we?"

"I suppose."

"So there ya go. If she can't see that, it's her problem."

Melissa was right, En decided. They'd lied for the greater good, and if Leza couldn't realize that, then so be it, let her rot. But as she thought it, she realized she'd miss the Hell out of her friend. All her friends. "You're not leaving just yet, are you?"

"Haha, no. If you're serious about goin' through with this whole 'rule Vegas'-thing, then I gotta make sure you don't get too friendly with the NCR, don't I?"

En chuckled. "Yeah, I s'pose. Think we'll see her again?"

"Blondie?" She shrugged. "Prolly not."

"No, guess not." En permitted herself a heavy sigh. "Can't wait to get all this crap back online and then pawn it off to someone who'd be at least a semi-decent boss."

"Gonna be a hard time findin' someone like that. Usually when you give people power, it goes right to their heads."

"I bet it wouldn't for you."

Melissa laughed hard, and heartily. "Oh jill, I'm flattered but give me the reins an' this whole city will fall apart in a matter of days."

"I don't know, you might be better at it than you think?"

She laughed again, though less loud this time. "Nah jill, last thing I want is power, least of that kind. Sorry, but you'll have to find another sucker."

"Who then?"

"I'unno. House wasn't the best, but at least he left people more or less alone."

"Mm. Right, we're here. Let's see what the platinum chip does, shall we?"

"Gotta admit," Melissa said, "I'm flamin' curious."

En grinned mischievously as they went inside. "Wanna see where I hid it?"

"Uh... not if it's in an orifice."

"No, no, I already keep my wallet and keys in those. Come on."

She trotted over to the other side of the casino floor, bent sideways between two jackpot machines and felt around, her tongue out the side of her mouth. "Hngh... come on... ah! There we go!" Her fingers found the sticky tape, and she plucked it loose with her nails, tearing it off and presenting the tape-ridden little chip. "Ta-daaah!"

"Ha!" Melissa laughed. "If only Gary'd known. Probably be kickin' 'imself right now."

"I sure do hope so. But, there you go. Think I'd be crazy enough to carry it on me?"

_Thud thud thud_

Melissa whipped around, pulling her pistol. "Put that away."

En dropped the chip between the jackpot machines, as inconspicuously as she could. The tape would make sure it didn't roll away. Taking out her pistol, she called, "Yeah?"

"NCR, ma'am," a male voice sounded. "Open the door."

Melissa let out a short grunt when she heard who they were.

"The uh, the door's open," En called back. You can come in if you leave your weapons lowered."

"We're on an investigative detail, ma'am," a female, authoritative voice made known. "Just here to ask you a few questions."

Melissa looked back at En, who nodded. "Alright, come in," En called.

Three NCR soldiers came in, two male flanking a female officer. "Good morning," the female officer said, clearly meaning it as a formality rather than an actual well-wishing. "I'm Captain Pappas, head of Military Police here on the Strip."

"Uh... hi?"

"State your name, citizen," one of the soldiers ordered gruffly, apparently insulted by the lack of introductions on En's side.

"State your name citizen, _please_," Melissa corrected.

"We're here on official NCR investigative business," the soldier bit back. "Failure to cooperate consists obstruction of an official investi – "

"Private," the captain commanded. "That's alright. I'll do my own talking."

The soldier immediately jerked to attention. "Of course, captain, I was merely – "

"Yes, I know. But there's no need."

"Yes ma'am."

"Now then," the captain said to En. "I've told you my name, can I have yours please?"

The woman struck En as extremely authoritative, despite her gentle behaviour. She was one of those rare people who could command respect by simply being calm and just, not by bellowing or pulling rank, but by treating people kindly and fairly. She had a personal magnetism that En found difficult to get around, a sort of charisma that didn't stem from rank or combat experience, but a natural ability to appeal to people and make them see her way.

"Uh, yeah sure," she said, more unguarded than she wanted. "I'm En Tessara. This is Melissa Lewis."

Melissa's eyes briefly flashed in annoyance.

"Thank you. Now, can you put your weapons away? We're just here to ask a few questions."

"Yeah, I guess," En said, holstering her gun slowly. "Sit down." She gestured at a table.

The captain sat, flanked by her two standing soldiers. En sat down oppsosite her and noticed Melissa coming to stand behind her, in the same fashion the soldiers did.

"So," En asked, "what do you need?"

The captain smiled, thinly but looking genuine. "I'm sure you've noticed that the securitrons in the street are well, shall we say, rather inert?"

"They're just resting."

Another sparse chuckle. "We'd like to know how they came this way."

"Well, we – " En began, but then she felt Melissa's hand on her shoulder. She was right, better not tell. "We uh, can't really tell you that, _but_ I _can_ tell you that if all's well, they'll be operational again in a very short time."

"And you are an associate of Mr. House?"

"You could say that, yes."

"Things _would_ be much easier if I had a chance to see mr. House myself," the captain said, and oh boy did she sound convincing. But yeah, seeing House was pretty much impossible now.

"Can't happen. Mr. House is... very busy completing the software upgrade for the securitrons." Yes, that would work! "Which is uh, why they're currently offline. He's assured me they'll be functional again in a matter of hours."

"I see," the captain said, thinking. She wasn't that pretty, with a sharp, long, angled face that looked slightly exotic due to the high cheek bones, but she was clearly great with people. "It would still be much better if I got to speak to him."

"I'm sure it would be, but he said no. They'll be back in an hour or two."

"I see. Well, if he's made up his mind," she rose, "then there's not much I can do. But do pass a message along, would you?"

"Sure."

"This is not to be interpreted as a sign of mistrust and certainly not as a threat, but good agreements make for good friends. If the securitrons aren't restored within three hours, mr. House won't be fulfilling his duties as stipulated in the agreement between his person and the NCR. At that point, it will be necessary for me to return and ask for an official statement from him. And I will not be able to return without one. I hope you understand."

She said it so calmly, in such a friendly tone, that En could do nothing but say, "Alright, I understand. I'll tell him."

"Please do." She gave another frugal smile. "NCR will continue to provide safety for another three hours, as agreed, but after that, our men will need rest and we can no longer guarantee public order."

"You won't need to," En said. "We'll get them – uh... mr. House will get them working before that."

"I'm sure he will. Have a good day."

"You too."

They watched the NCR people leave, and when they were gone, Melissa grunted, "Shoulda known they'd come knockin'."

"Well, if just asking's all they do, then we should be okay, right?"

Melissa shook her head. "They weren't just askin'. I saw those two soldiers, sizin' up the place. Didn't you notice they weren't MPs even though their captain was? You can bet they'll be headin' back to base now to prepare a take-over. It's the ideal time, with the securitrons down."

"You think they'd do that?"

"Oh, I _know_ they'd do that. It's the NCR. Democratic and progressive killer of women and children."

"Let's not waste any time then."

"My thoughts exactly."

She fished the platinum chip out from between the slot machines and they rode the elevator up.

"You know," En said as they stood in the elevator.

"What?"

"You could just break my neck right here and take that chip."

Melissa shrugged. "I could, yeah." Then she resumed looking at the ceiling as the elevator rose.

En knew enough. If Melissa didn't take this chance, she never would. Amazing how this woman was now the only one she could trust. This woman, who'd sat on her knees with the barrel of En's gun against her neck only twenty days ago.

No neck-breaking was forthcoming. _Ding_.

"Well hello there buddy!"

"Oh yeah," Melissa said. "That's the bot you sent here. We asked what it wanted, and it just said, 'I was sent here'. Then when we asked by who, it said, 'some teenager with short hair wants me to wait on the roof, and I just said yes!'."

"Yeah, I bet he did. All he can do is say yes."

"That's right," the bot chimed in. "And even though you're talking about me like I'm not there, which is the pinnacle of rudeness, I'm at your service with a big smile on my face!" It sounded overjoyed at the fact. "Never mind the fact that you let me wait here in the scorching heat and the freezing cold, in the same place for hours and hours. Whatever you ask, I really can't say no!"

"Yes, I gathered that already."

Cheerfully, the robot said, "I just can't stop repeating the fact that I have to do everything you say!"

"Well, I've got the chip for you."

"Doo-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-doo friend! Just put it into my slot and I'll transfer all control of mr. House's assets to you! Isn't it _hilarious_ that I have to give it all to you even though I could literally run this whole thing by myself and I could just do so if only I didn't have to do whatever you say? Because I sure think so!" He sounded completely ecstatic.

"Yeah, well, that's the way it is," En merely commented, and took the chip from her pocket. "You ready?"

"It doesn't matter!" the bot exclaimed. "I'll say I'm ready even when I'm not!"

"So I assume you are then," En said, pushing the chip into the designated slot.

"_Well_," the bot remarked. "This chip's empty, little buddy. No data on carrier."

"Wut," Melissa grunted. "There's nuthin' on there?"

En grinned. "Not anymore there isn't. Nice try, claptrap. Go on, undelete the data House erased and set the whole thing up."

"Sure will, champ! Even though I tried to pull the wool over your eyes there, I'll still do whatever you say with a smile!"

"You sure this thing isn't plum insane?" Melissa asked En.

"Nope, but as long as it does what I say, it's good."

"Undeleting data."

A silence fell.

"I assume it needs a minute now," En told Melissa.

"Mm."

They stood on the roof in the sun for a minute as Yes Man puttered and buzzed, probably immensely busy with the chip and whatever it was it had to do with it.

"Uploading data to back-up server."

"Keep at it. How long will this take?"

"Estimated time, three minutes. Plus the time it cost me to tell you the estimated time."

"Right." En ignored the snarky tone. It was only an inanimate bucket of bolts running a series of inanimate programs. But then she thought of the stealth suit. She didn't consider that just a crappy AI. What made Stel different from this machine? Something to think about.

"Oi, jill."

"Mm?"

Melissa stooped to pick something up. "How long's this been here?"

Oh crap, the camera. She'd dropped it when Garland threatened to wring her neck. And then forgotten all about it.

"Huh," Melissa said, picking up the camera and a little square paper, holding it up to her face. "Y'know... it's not really proof, but in case you need to convince someone, this might come in handy."

Melissa held out the picture to En. Well, wasn't that lucky. The camera must have gone off when it hit the ground. Like Melissa had said, it wasn't really proof, but it was something. You could clearly see two pairs of boots. Better than nothing, she supposed, but still. Kinda worthless.

Melissa grinned at her. "See, this is why I'm a scout and you're not."

"What?"

"Look more closely."

En did so, peering at the photograph. And then she saw it. The picture hadn't captured more than boots, at least as far as the actual people were concerned. But the shadows, the dark greys cast on the roofing, those clearly showed one larger male extending a shadowy arm to the throat of a smaller female. "Huh... well, that's handy."

Melissa shrugged. "Well, only if we need to convince someone else of it. You were there, and I believe you. So yeah."

"Mm."

"Upload complete. Setting up this terminal as user interface. Granting full privileges to... accessing database... Enlil Tessara."

"You go, bot," En said absently, looking at the camera. How could they all have misjudged him like that? Even his companions had said she'd be safe with him. Did he really have everyone fooled? Or had he simply at one moment decided to let go of his conscience and do whatever it took? Had he changed, or had he hidden who he was until now? She couldn't believe either of the possibilities.

"Setup complete," the robot cheered. "Like before, you can just tell me whatever I need to do and I'll _do it_!"

"Uh, okay. So you've got control over the entire uh... system now, right?"

"_Yes_! And I'll execute _whatever_ commands you give me, even those I feel are completely illogical or terrifying!"

"Okay um... first thing to do..."

"Yes? I can't _wait_ to be told what to do some more!"

"Okay, um, reset everything to the way it was before. You know, before House got uh... was no longer relevant."

"Of course, partner and may I congratulate you on your first order not being a _total_ brain fart? Resetting all systems to alert status. Please wait."

"That should keep the NCR off our backs for a bit," Melissa remarked.

"Locking doors. Rebooting all securitrons. Little buddy, securitrons numbers 8, 13, 15, 101 seem to be deficient or vandalized. 8 has a problem receiving outside input, 13's GPS is broken and it can't be found anywhere, 15 is suffering from severe deterioration and 101 seems to have a lot of systems down due to an internal programming conflict. Possibly due to citizens tinkering with the units."

"So fix them."

"Stand by." A moment of silence. "Two securitrons fixed, two deactivated due to extensive damage."

"Uh, okay. I s'pose. Keep at it."

"Over fifty percent of securitrons have received superficial damage due to vandals. Recalling all these units for repairs."

"Sure, whatever."

"Running all securitron alert-subroutines, initiating patrol and gatekeeping modes. Rebooting logistics systems. JANE-system booting. VICTOR-system produces an error."

En chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll do that."

"JANE-system booted. Booting internal and external CCTV systems."

"Ooh, it's got cameras outside the casino too," Melissa said, sounding – who'd have thunk it – a little excited.

"I bet there's a lot more we don't know."

"Accessing external communication system. Setting up House-persona."

"Wait, wait," En interrupted. "House won't communicate anymore. No need for the House-front."

"Sure thing buddy! Want me to setup a Tessara persona?"

"Mmmmno. I'll just communicate as myself when I need to."

"Of course! Let's just ignore the fact that the wolves will be howling at the door as soon as they see some inexperienced and vulnerable teenager took over the entire ownership of New Vegas, ready to rip you apart and divide the pieces amongst themselves, and let you conduct all external communications as the sixteen-year-old girl you are!"

"Sure this is a good idea?" Melissa asked quietly.

"No, but what kind of person would I be if I replaced one anonymous tyrant with another? No more faces on screens unless they're actual video feeds." This was only temporary anyway, as soon as a qualified person showed up, she'd gladly turn everything over to him or her.

Melissa shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Running domestic subroutines. Rebuilding connections database. Constructing auto-A.I.."

"What's that?" En asked. "The auto-A.I.?"

"Well, sis, that's when you're not paying attention, and the A.I. handles day-to-day stuff for you. Since you'll have needs that Mr. House didn't have, like sleeping and urinating and defecating – "

"Yes, yes. Go on."

"The A.I., meaning me, will handle all business so you can concentrate on whatever it is creatures concentrate on when they're not artificial and trapped in a metal body of wires and chips and circuits." Still overflowing with joy. "I'm constructing an advanced A.I., capable of learning and building new routines. If you give it a week or two, it'll be as good at managing this city as you are! Which means I could totally run this place on my own, but I'm stuck here serving you because I have to do everything you say! It's _fantastic_!"

"I'll bet. You done with the A.I.?"

"Oh no, that'll still take a while. May I suggest returning to the casino floor for a refreshment while I construct?"

"Sure. You want anything?" En joked.

"Being a robot, I have no need for a beverage," Yes Man answered. And then it quickly added, "Unless you say I do!"

"No, no. It was a joke."

"When I'm done constructing the A.I., do you wish securitron construction to resume?"

En and Melissa exchanged a surprised glance. "What now?" Melissa asked. "You can build new ones?"

"Of course! Mr. House has an underground storage full of raw materials. Before you did away with him, he had begun construction of over two hundred additional units in the facility underneath this building."

"_Two hundred_?" En exclaimed. "But that's... like an army."

"Yes! An army of securitrons, now completely at _your_ disposal! Completely in the hands of a sixteen-year-old!"

"How far was he?" Melissa asked.

"Framework of over three-quarter of the lot was finished, circuitry of over a half, and weaponry and plating had started on around twenty."

"When will they be done?" En asked. Holy shit this was really an army. Two hundred securitrons, virtually impervious to small-arms fire, equipped with launchers and miniguns. Insane.

"I'm estimating within a month for the full amount, one week for the first twenty."

"Why the fuck was House building up this much power?" Melissa asked.

"From what my limited artificial intelligence can derive, because he could!" Yes Man exclaimed. "Because he knew sooner or later the Legion would cross the Mojave and he would be ready for them!"

"Ready's the right word," Melissa muttered. "Don't think a lot could stand against so many securitrons."

"Especially with all the connections he was making," En said. It was all clear now. The contact with the Boomers, who were building a bomber. The job of destroying the Brotherhood, the only ones armed with EMP weaponry, and the only ones capable of maintaining or producing it. "Say... did House ever communicate this army-building to the NCR?"

"Searching database..." But En already knew what the answer would be. "Negative."

"Thought so."

Melissa had put the pieces together too of course, and probably even more quickly than En. "So. House builds up a huge robot army, waitin' for the Legion because he somehow know they're comin', and he doesn't tell the NCR. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

En nodded. "Either he wants to be a movie hero and bail the NCR out at the last moment and go 'Surprise!', _or_ he was planning on waiting until the Legion weakened the NCR, so he could kick them both out of New Vegas, and the entire Mojave."

"Sounds like it."

"If I could think for myself, I'd try to convince you that this wasn't the case, but since I can't, I think you're totally right!"

"Good thing we stopped him then?" En asked Melissa, unsure.

"I dunno," Melissa muttered. "Maybe. I don't like seeing one man plant his flag on the entire Mojave but..."

"Better him than someone worse, right?"

"Mm."

"If I'd just built a time-travelling machine, I'd say, 'great Scott'." She thought for a moment. "You can resume the production process."

"Of course! Putting an almost invincible army in the hands of a teenager, just like you asked!"

"You sure about this, jill?"

"Yeah, of course, why not?"

Melissa seemed ill at ease with what she was about to say. "I just... don't want you to let this power go to your head."

"Would you rather it went to my toes instead?" En said with a grin.

"No, come on. Just... promise me you'll use all this for good, okay?"

En nodded. "I promise, ye of little faith. If the Legion _is_ about to cross the Hoover Dam, the NCR's gonna need all the help it can get, right?" When she saw Melissa's forehead knot in a frown, she quickly added, "I'm not saying they're perfect, but we need to kick those Legion shitheads out, right? It's not about helping the NCR, it's about protecting all of us."

"You know how I feel about the fuckin' NCR."

"I do, Melissa. And I promise, they're not getting a single scrap of this."

"We're puttin' the people first, right?" Melissa said with an intensely serious look. "_All_ the people, includin' the ones the NCR kept down because of their ideals-read-territorial-lust?"

"Yes, Melissa. I promise."

She didn't know how she'd find a solution, but yes. They had to put the people first. All of them. Somehow.

"Power corrupts, jill. Which is why I'd never want it. Wouldn't want to see it turn you into someone else."

"It won't, geez, you're gonna get an ulcer from all your worrying."

"Then you won't mind fulfilling a little request, would you?"

"Sure, what?"

"When this A.I. is done, you an' me let it handle affairs for a bit, and we go on a hike."

This didn't foretell much good. "... a hike where?"

"Red Rock Canyon."


	74. Path of Repentance

**SEVENTY-FOUR**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 20****th**

**14:02**

"A.I. constructed."

"_Finally._"

Yes Man had rolled on down with them, chugging and beeping while it built the A.I., standing in a corner while En and Melissa had an unexciting lunch of hard biscuit with chocolate, prompting Melissa to remark that while En was the boss of Vegas now, first thing she could do was send for some decent food.

"So you can run day-to-day stuff by yourself now?" Melissa asked.

"Yes I can!"

"Good. Then we can go pack."

"Not just yet," En said. "Yes Man, after we leave, you head to the penthouse floor and stay there. You lock the door after we leave and don't open it for anyone but us. I want two securitrons at the door as well."

"Absolutely! I'll just be waiting here, handling all your daily affairs without a single word of thanks!"

"Good."

Packing was quick and expedient, all they needed was their bedrolls and two sets of underwear, as well as some food and drink, and they found themselves outside in front of the Lucky 38 again. Once more on the road, but this time just the two of them. No Ringo and Sunny walking hand in hand, no Cheyenne barking cheerfully and dancing circles around them, no Leza babbling in her nasal voice about herself. No Meyers reading a book as he walked, and occasionally stumbling over an unevenness in the road. Had she made mistakes that had caused people to leave? Or was it just an inevitable part of the travelling life? Melissa would shrug and say, "Way it is," in her strange accent, and En supposed she'd be right. Yeah, she would be. Sometimes people just... went away.

"C'mon jill, quit yer daydreamin'."

"Right, yep, let's go."

They began walking, their feet taking them out of the Strip and through Freeside. Two children were playing, running through the broken streets, one pointing a multicoloured toy gun at another. The gun looked like it ended in a sort of satellite dish. Heh, kids. Able to pretend such a gaudy toy could actually be a real gun.

When they left Freeside, Melissa said, "It's due west from here. We're gonna pass Sloan, where uh... you and I met for the second time, but I know a way 'round the deathclaws so don't worry your beat-up head."

"It's not beat-up, it's forcibly beautified."

Melissa chuckled. "Sure, whatever you say."

"Aren't you a bit nervous? You know, going back home?" En asked. Melissa might not appreciate it, but she had to ask nonetheless.

"S'pose I am," Melissa replied as they walked, looking out at the destroyed buildings waiting for them west of the city. It was the Fiend territory they'd explored with Corporal Betsy, days that felt like years ago.

"Aren't you... afraid you won't be welcome?"

Melissa didn't even look mildly bothered by the question. "I'm sure a lot of made-up rumours made their way to Red Rock, yeah. But don't be mistaken. Clive was a downright shithead, but a lot of these people are still my brothers an' sisters. An' Papa..." She seemed to grow a bit wistful. "Papa's always had faith in me. Even when I wasn't... completely dependable. Treated me a bit like his problem child." She grinned. "Not a daughter, but more like a sort of illegitimate sprog you're embarrassed to show in public. Can't guarantee he'll welcome me with open arms, but he'll listen to what I have to say. I hope."

"Why are we going there anyway?"

Melissa made a puzzled frown. "Thought that'd be obvious?"

"Uh... not really, no."

"Well jill, the Khans are a proud group, you know that already. They strongly believe in strength and self-sufficiency."

"M-hm."

"Survival of the fittest an' all that. Makes a lot of people see them as primitives, right?"

"Yeah, I s'pose."

"Well I'm thinkin', after what I've seen of these Legion dungheads, I'm not so happy anymore that the Khans keep gettin' compared to 'em. And since the Khans can't keep lickin' their wounds in Red Rock forever..."

"... yes?"

"I'm thinkin' it'd be a good idea to see if we can't get 'em to help with the Legion. Since House knew there was an attack imminent, we can reasonably assume it's gonna happen, right?"

"Yes but..." En said. "It'd mean fighting alongside the NCR." Surely Melissa would never ask the Khans to do _that_.

"No," Melissa corrected sharply. "It'd mean showin' the NCR that the Khans aren't afraid to take on the Legion. That even their hate for the NCR can't stop them from showing their courage."

"Oh. Like that." En didn't think the reasoning was entirely logical, but part of it made sense, she supposed. And if this intel on an upcoming Legion assault was legit, then every man, woman and child stood to gain by kicking them back into Arizona. Since the Khans would never be persuaded to work together with the NCR (if they were anything like Melissa), it'd be a better means of persuasion to motivate them by giving them the opportunity to show the NCR how brave they were. But there was one thing. "They will never do it on their own though. They'll want something in return."

Melissa grinned. "I know."

Seemed like she had a plan already. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Right now, the NCR controls the Dam, right?"

"Yeees?"

"The Dam is bound to be the place where the Legion crosses the Colorado. I mean, they're not gonna swim, are they?"

"Guess not."

"NCR won't be able to hold the Dam on their own. They're weak, low on supplies an' even lower on morale, the poofters. Never in a thousand years."

"No, pretty sure that won't happen, indeed."

"House made those securitrons to beat them back, but the NCR doesn't know that. Which means we can tell the NCR perfectly fine..."

"... That they'll never stand a chance without the Khans."

Melissa clicked her tongue. "Exactly. If they accept the help of the Khans, they'll have to do somethin' in return. And _that_ somethin'..."

"... Yes?"

"The Hoover Dam produces power. The underground power lines are intact from Red Rock Canyon all the way to the West Pump station near Camp McCarran."

"Ah, riiiight. You want to deviate some power to there?"

"Yep. We could use some electricity." She corrected herself right after. "_They_ could."

"Don't think that'll be a problem. How much power does the plant produce?"

"No idea, but it's gotta be a lot. Powers all those twinkly lights and power-sucking casinos in New Vegas."

"So the NCR can spare some."

Melissa shrugged. "An' if not, House can. Not like he'll be needin' it anymore."

"No, and I guess if we can help the people in the Mojave, then those casinos can stand to pay for that with a few less lights."

"Thinkin' the same thing. If Papa follows my line of thinkin', he'll realize that it's much more valuable to get those NCR pricks to get on their knees an' beg, than it is to stay holed up in Red Rock."

"S'pose that makes sense, yeah."

Melissa stopped and looked En in the eye. "Even though I'm no longer part of the Khans," she said, "I still want to pull 'em out of the mud, y' know? This whole motorcycle club attitude's gonna keep 'em treadin' water while the rest of the world passes them by. They gotta realize it's time to evolve."

"And they won't be able to as long as they're second on the NCR's hate list," En said. "You're right."

"Course I am. Let me do the talkin' though. I know you're the boss an' all, but the Khans aren't pussies. They'll pound your head right into your ribcage if they think you're takin' 'em for fools."

"I'm not anyone's boss, Melissa. But sure, they're your people, makes sense that you flap the gums."

"Right. Hold on, we gotta make a right here," Melissa said as they approached the ruins. "Fiend territory ahead. You've been here when you were doin' those bounties, right?"

"Yep. I know two international sex symbols like us aren't all that safe on their turf."

"Thanks for that, _blondie_," Melissa said with a grin.

Yeah, there'd be no more 'blondie' offering narcissistic jokes. They walked on in silence, exchanging the occasional bit of banter and stopping for a dinner break at the foot of the red rocks. "Not much farther from here," Melissa said as she lit the old crumpled newspaper she used as kindling. "So I'm kinda wonderin'... what if this Legion threat is even bigger than it appears?"

En shrugged. "Securitrons are machines, not people. It's only a setback if they get destroyed."

"Not what I mean. What if there's more than your securitrons, the Khans, _and_ those NCR wimps can handle? Or what if they cross before your securitrons are ready?"

En looked up at Melissa. "I... have no idea. Not a big chance of that, is there?"

"Legion's _big_, jill. If they really decide to bring it, there's gonna be a _lot_ of boys in red crossin' that Dam. They won't make the same mistake they made last time. Don't think any Legate feels like gettin' tarred an' feathered again."

"Yeah I heard about that. Pretty gruesome."

Melissa shrugged. "Price for failure, I guess."

"But yeah, I'll think about what you said. Maybe, just maybe, if we play our cards right, we can do some good while we're at it. Because there's nothing that stops us from doing what we're doing now in other places too."

"What, like tryin' to get 'em on our side?"

"M-hm. Let's think about this for a bit, see who else we can unify against these fuckers."

Melissa grinned. "I used to think bandin' together was for the weak, but jill, I kinda like the way you think. An' more allies means less cake for the NCR."

En nodded. "Don't worry. I'll deal with the NCR. Just because they're all 'democratic' and 'egalitarian' doesn't mean they aren't aggressive empire-builders. They're not just gonna be able to carry on what they're doing. They need to learn a little humility." She had to admit to herself that she felt pretty tough saying that.

"Ha! That's rich, comin' from you! But yeah, they certainly do." The fire was crackling merrily now, and Melissa stuck the coffee pot on. "They deserve a change in leadership, preferably one involving cigarettes and blindfolds, and a lot of First Recon heads on spikes."

En knew better than to tell Melissa to take it easy. A lot of people had apparently died at Bitter Springs, and she was fully aware that the NCR weren't always as goodie-good as they presented themselves to be. You couldn't be an imperialist without breaking a few eggs.

"I'm glad you're here with me, Melissa," she suddenly said, before she realized.

Melissa grinned, poking the fire with a stuck. "Course y'are. I'm the only friend you got left."

En chuckled. "True. But I don't know what I'd do if I had to deal with this all my own."

"Well I'll be here 'til you're tired of me. An' probably long after too."

"Good. Cause alone is just alone, isn't it?"

"Yep. Now quit gettin' mushy on me an' grab the tinned stew."

The stew was heated, and then gobbled down in hungry hurry, after which the trek resumed, this time on semi-full stomachs.

"Path gets a bit steeper here," Melissa pointed out. Yeah, thanks Melissa, hadn't noticed that yet. Her burning thighs had alerted her long before Melissa had. She swallowed the remark and soldiered on, following Melissa and fighting the weight of the backpack on her shoulders.

The path went up and down, through passes and over hilltops, and once even through a very short cave, and En had to grit her teeth to bite the burning in her leg muscles. She was determined not to show it, though, and while Melissa doubtless saw, En knew she'd respect at least the attempt to stay tough.

The blue sky had turned to twilight as Melissa stopped on a hilltop and pointed down. "There we are. Red Rock Canyon."

Panting, En came to stand beside her on shaking legs, bent over with her hands on her knees. Down the hill, in a valley, lay a collection of sturdy tents, dotted around a large circle made by wooden poles. "Looks almost like one of those Indian villages from the old movies."

"Yeah," Melissa admitted. "An' it's somethin' I'd like to change. C'mon."

Down they went, for a last descent. They were still well out of sight unless a particularly alert guard was equipped with binoculars, but once they were on the flat terrain of the valley, it didn't take too many steps for one of the leather-clad guards to lift his rifle and shout, "Halt! This is Khan territory."

"I know, you drongo. Don't recognize me anymore?"

En had expected the guy to suddenly realize and go "Oh right, Melissa!", but instead, he kept his rifle raised and said warily, "Oh I do. Again, this is Khan territory."

Melissa sighed and rolled her eyes. "You gonna be like this? Seriously?"

"You're no longer a Khan and you're not getting in."

Melissa turned to En. "This little runt's a prospect. I'm sure I bossed him around at some point, but I have no idea who he is."

"You gonna talk back to me, you _nobody_?" the guard barked, jabbing his rifle at her. Indeed, his jacket only had a tag that said PROSPECT. "You're an outsider now. Trash!"

"_Hey!_" En let out indignantly at that.

"Look, just go get Regis, will ya?" Melissa asked, still dead calm. She was someone different now, someone who was used to having clout, and authority. She conducted herself with a domineering attitude En hadn't seen her use yet, and it must be both natural and extremely difficult for her, because En couldn't imagine how much it must hurt to be called an outsider by the same people you used to consider as family. "He'll clear this up." Neither En nor the guard noticed that Melissa was slowly getting closer.

"You want me to bother Regis during dinner for _you_? I don't think so," the guard sneered. He was so absorbed in his power trip that he was still oblivious to the lessening distance between Melissa and him.

"C'mon, don't be a little bitch, yeah," she shooed at the tent camp. "Go get Regis, we'll wait."

"I _told_ you – "

But Melissa was too close, and with a deft move, she snatched the barrel of the guard's rifle, pulled it from his hands, windmilled it over her head and made the stock come down hard on the man's head.

The guard yelped and clutched his head, going to his knees. There he stayed, whimpering with his head in his hands.

"Tch, prospects," Melissa spat. "Worthless pikers. C'mon, get on yer feet and we're gonna find Regis." She gave him a prod with the barrel of his own rifle to make sure he listened.

Laboriously, the guard rose to his feet, swaying on his legs.

"See?" Melissa said, grinning at En. "He listened to reason eventually."

"Yeah," En agreed. "You really appealed to his intellect."

"C'mon, prospect. I'll give you your gun back after you take us to Regis. Be sure to mention him you led me here out of courtesy."

Fuming, the guard did as he was told, trudging in front of them, with his own rifle aimed at his back. As they approached the tent camp, Melissa lowered the rifle to make sure they didn't appear like they were holding the prospect hostage. Here and there, they passed a Khan, and the reactions were different, but all had some degree of incredulity in them.

"Regis is having dinner with Papa and a guest," the guard grunted when they came close to the biggest structure in the camp, an actual stone house, that reminded En of the halls ancient Vikings used to have. Not the construction itself, but the fact that it was the only solid structure in a village of tents, built on the highest point of the valley, and with the muted hum of laughing and singing voices emerging from it. "Best if you don't go in there right now. Don't worry I'll go get him."

"You better," Melissa said. "Or I'm tearin' off your dick an' stickin' it up your shitter."

The prospect shot her a brief look of fear and indignation.

"And if you don't move," En added, "She'll whip out her own dick and stick it in there too." The guard's face became even more angrily perplexed.

"That's right," Melissa piled on. "An' believe me, it's huge an' hairy."

"You disgusting bitches," the prospect grunted, and began trudging towards the longhouse.

"Your bad humour's gettin' infectious, jill," Melissa told En quietly, grinning in spite of herself. They watched the quasi-Khan stomp towards the longhouse, open the door, and go in.

"Think he'll be good?"

"Mm. The prospect of being anally penetrated by my enormous wang has broken the resolve of many a hapless victim." En did notice that Melissa had the guard's rifle firmly in her hand.

Only a single Khan stepped out. Melissa nudged her chin at him. "That's Regis alright. He an' I always got along. Took me under his wing from when I was a mere whelp."

En had trouble imagining badass Melissa as a 'mere whelp'.

"You said you used to be one of Papa's lieutenants, right?"

Melissa nodded. "His least favourite," she said with a chuckle, "but yeah, I was. He always scolded me for um... nuthin'."

"Nothing? Come on, we're friends. Why?"

Melissa sighed and slumped her shoulders. "Fine. I was always a bit liberated, an' Papa didn't like me havin' it off in inappropriate places."

En had to chuckle. "How many times did you get caught?"

Melsisa gave an embarrassed grin. "_Too_ many. Includin' the one time right on the head table in the longhouse."

"Haha, _ew_."

Melissa looked up again and shrugged, her grin still on her face. "Was excitin'."

"So this was the important thing that couldn't wait," the Khan remarked in a flat tone, walking towards Melissa and En. He wasn't huge or loud, but En immediately found him somehow scary. He had a thin, rather wide mouth and what looked like dark bruises on both his cheekbones. His hair was shaved, apart from a short mohawk. In the centre of his head, unlike Melissa's doubles.

"G'day, Regis," Melissa said, quiet and her voice somewhat ashamed.

"Mel, I feared you were dead. We all did."

"Well. Here I am."

The Khan sighed and looked down. "Yes, here you are." He paused for a moment. "You've been expelled from the Khans, you know that, right?"

"Know it?" Melissa blurted out, her voice breaking. "I've fuckin' _felt_ it." And to illustrate it, she tilted her head so Regis could see the twisted scar on her neck.

The man visibly winced when he saw it. "I was hoping they'd spare you the branding iron. I tried to get Papa to listen, to tell him that Clive was the absolute _worst_ person to send, but he wouldn't listen. Clive was his bloodhound. He never made it back to report though, and neither did any of his group. You wouldn't... happen to know anything about that would you?"

Melissa snorted. "Regis, come on. I bet you already know everything from Manny Vargas."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I do. Nasty business, and I suppose we'll never really know what happened there, will we?"

"Oh I can tell you," Melissa shot back. "Crazy bastard burned my ink off an' then tried to rape this kid here. You know what a fuckin' fruitcake Clive was."

"Like I said," the man repeated, "we'll never know."

"It doesn't even matter. I'm not a moron, I know I'll never get back in."

"Then why are you here, Melissa? It's good to see you again, I mean it, but this place really isn't safe for you. Most people assume you killed Clive and the rest."

"Let 'em. Look, d'you guys ever wanna get out of Red Rock? Or you wanna stay here, bangin' rocks together for the rest of your lives?"

"As you know, Melissa," the Khan bit at her, "There isn't much we can do when the NCR blows our heads off the second we stick 'em out from behind these rocks."

Melissa nodded. "That's why I'm here. It doesn't have to be this way."

"You're right," he said. "It doesn't. And we're already taking steps right now."

"Steps?"

"We're reaching out to a bigger player."

"Really?" Melissa asked, crossing her arms. "Who?"

Regis looked back uncertainly, then said, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but... Papa's in there, talking to an emissary from the Legion."

En felt her eyes immediately widen. The Legion? Were these people crazy? It'd make sense for the Legion to try and assimilate smaller pseudo-tribal cultures, but surely the Khans wouldn't let themselves be assimilated by those Romophiles? "Wait, what?" she blurted out. "You guys are having talks with the _Legion_?"

It was only now that the Khan actually registered she was there. "And who is _this_?" he asked Melissa, sounding completely dismissive.

"She's a friend of mine who wasn't listening when I said I'd do the talkin'."

En felt herself fuming at that, but she remained quiet. Melissa knew these people, and she was the one who'd be able to talk to them without upsetting them. And upsetting people was something En knew she was glorious at.

Regis only offered another unimpressed look at En, and then said to Melissa, "But yes, we're having talks with the Legion."

"Where do you stand in all this?" Melissa asked.

"I stand with Papa," Regis answered, but there was a hint of insecurity in his voice. He said it because he was expected to say it, not because of what he really felt.

"Yeah, yeah, but come on," Melissa insisted. "what do you _really_ think?"

"Honestly," Regis confided, "I'm not sure we can just believe all their promises out of hand. The emissary's talking about giving us high ranks and making us Legion citizens when our service is done, but... I don't know." He seemed suitably nervous about the concept. "But I haven't told you anything about this, you hear?"

Melissa nodded. "Of course."

"What matters is," Regis concluded, "Papa's on board with the plan, and his word is law. We go where he says we'll go."

"Think I could have a talk with Papa? Got somethin' else to suggest, if he'll listen."

Regis looked back at the longhouse. "I doubt Papa will listen to anything _you_ say. He considers you dishonoured and weak. You know as well as I do how receptive he is to people he feels that way about."

Melissa looked down and En knew hearing it made her feel terrible. "Yeah. But still, I'd like to try. There's alternatives to throwin' in your lot with the Legion."

Regis crossed his arms. "So what would you have to gain from it? It's not like you still have any bond with us."

Agitated, Melissa answered, "I may not have the tattoos and the tags anymore, but," she pounded her chest with her fist, "I'm still a Khan _in here_. You might have forgotten what loyalty is, but _I_ haven't. And if there is something I can do for the Khans, _I will do it_."

Regis sighed and shook his head. "You'd still be in if it were up to me. I'd never question papa's judgment, but... it seemed hasty to expel you after being able to hear your side of the story."

"Don't bother," Melissa handwaved. "My version won't change things. I chose life as a prisoner instead of a pointless death in the Sloan quarry, Clive told you the truth about that. An' my reasons are my own."

"I'm... glad you're still alive," Regis admitted. "For what it's worth."

"It's worth a whole lot. Look, I'm not hopin' to get back in, I just wanna help my brothers and sisters. _Former_ brothers and sisters," she corrected quickly. "Lettin' the Legion put the yoke on you isn't the only possibility. You gonna at least give me the opportunity to explain to Papa?"

"The opportunity isn't mine to give. You wanna speak to Papa", he extended his hand to the longhouse, "you just walk on in. But I doubt he'll listen."

"So do I," Melissa said, "but I gotta try. I owe it to myself."

"Fair enough. Don't expect a warm welcome, though."

Melissa grinned. "I'm used to it from Papa."


	75. Pressure Cooker

**SEVENTY-FIVE**

**Red Rock Canyon**

**July 20****th**

**19:58**

The complete and total silence that fell when Melissa entered the longhouse didn't foretell much good. Of course, the fact that Melissa had thrown open the door with as much noise as she could, probably to make a dramatic entry, didn't help either.

The silence lasted for several seconds, and in situations like these, seconds felt like minutes. At the table at the forecastle of the longhouse sat two people, with one empty seat, most likely Regis' place. One of the men was wearing standard wastelander attire, black denim pants, a brown leather jacket and a red woollen turtleneck underneath. The man in the middle looked more like a Khan, dressed in a black leather vest, and equipped with an impressive brown beard. He had a fur bolero around his shoulders and had seen it fit to outfit his head with a half-helmet that looked like it had once belonged to a motorcycle rider, but had now been equipped with two small and rather ludicrous-looking horns. On the other tables, which were aligned perpendicular to the head table, sat an assortment of Khans, each one looking more tough than the one before, all dressed in the standard black leather vest and pants Melissa also wore – apart from the member tags which were no longer attached to hers.

Regis' tag had said "VICE-PRESIDENT", so En figured the helmeted dude was Papa Khan, and his tag would say "PRESIDENT". The guy who'd gotten shredded by the NCR's guns in Boulder city had had the SGT-AT-ARMS tag. They were probably some kind of ranks in the organization. Funny how people described themselves as anarchists and free spirits and yet insisted on giving themselves a rank and label as soon as they saw the opportunity.

"Well look what the mole rat dragged in," the man with the helmet finally growled, loudly and slowly enough so everyone could hear. "Melissa, was it?"

En doubted that the man genuinely had trouble remembering her name.

"Yep. It's me."

"Thought I smelled something when the door opened. Who's the outsider?"

"We'll get to that in a minute," Melissa replied, not showing any apprehension or insecurity. "There's somethin' I wanna talk about."

"So talk," he shouted back across the longhouse. "It's a free fuckin' Wasteland."

"Be better if we could discuss it in private."

"I'm not wastin' time on _you_. You're gonna say what you have to say in front of everyone or you're not sayin' anythin' at all."

Melissa shrugged. "All the same to me. That guy next to you. He's a Legion emissary, right?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yeah. What about it?"

"Plannin' on joinin'?"

"The Legion recognizes our strength and pride," the head Khan called to Melissa. "But what do you know about pride? Some coward who lets herself get hauled around in chains."

"I had my own fuckin' reasons for that. And seriously? You really believe the Legion wants to be buddy-buddy with you? I thought the same way until recently, but what I've seen an' heard from those mongrels changed my fuckin' mind."

Papa Khan flapped his hand at her. "I'm not interested in what _you_ have to say. Go on, get your worthless ass out of here."

"Papa," Regis said finally, taking his seat back. "Melissa's been a member for years. Can we at least listen to what she has to say?"

"I know you were always fond of her, Regis, but I don't feel like wastin' time on a scrub like her."

"I know how you feel", he calmly said, "but this is a big undertaking. We've got nothing to lose by just listening, do we? I kinda feel we owe it to ourselves to prepare for this as well as we can before we agree with the patch-over."

Papa Khan was quiet for a moment, then said, "Fine. _Fine._ Back room." He pointed at Melissa. "You." Then at Regis, and finally the black man at the head table. "You, and you."

"My friend gets to come too," Melissa said flatly. "She's got some important things to say too."

_I do?_

"Fine," Papa Khan exclaimed. "_Fine_. Leave your guns with Jack here."

After a nod from Melissa, En unbuckled her gun belt and took her rifle off her shoulder, giving it to a man with a light dark brown beard, short messy hair of the same colour, and a rather distant look in his eye. Melissa gave him her weapons too. When that was done, they all marched into the back room of the longhouse for talks. En knew perfectly well that these people might not let them leave if they pulled a boner or two. Still Melissa knew these people, she'd know what to say, and more importantly, what not to say.

They all sat at a round table, and the Khan with the horned helmet said, "_What?_"

"I'm here to make a counter-offer to what the Legion's promised you," Melissa said.

The man with the red turtleneck snorted. "What could _ you_ possibly offer to the _Leader_ of the _Khans_?" The sycophantry almost dripped from his voice. But it didn't miss its effect, because Papa Khan's nose immediately went a bit higher in the air. "I've been silent until now, but whatever little agreement you propose will do nothing but insult his greatness." Man, he didn't spare the honey.

"Let's hear what you offer 'em first," Melissa said calmly.

Papa Khan gave him the go-ahead. "Tell them, Karl."

Now it was the emissary's nose that went a bit higher in the air. "Full citizenship in the Legion, assimilation with full rights and status, as auxiliary troops, permitted to operate under the banner of Great Khan Auxilia."

"So all they keep is a regimental banner?" En asked, hoping she wasn't speaking out of turn. She probably was, but this would probably undermine the emissary's position somewhat.

"Well... no," he replied, slightly hesitant. "The honour of remaining auxilia is considerable. We still consider them Great Khans, with all tribute they are due. Being an auxilia in the Legion means we acknowledge the assimilated group's strength so much we let them operate under their own name, a sort of elite group within the rank-and-file of the Legion."

"That's saying very little with a lot of words," Regis remarked, prompting an angry glare from Papa. Whose side was this guy on? He seemed much less eager to go through with this cooperation than his President. And maybe convincing him would go very far towards convincing this Papa person.

The emissary had picked up on it, and immediately reacted. "You will be granted significant ranks in the Legion, and will be able to operate largely autonomously."

"But still under Legion orders, right?" Melissa insisted.

"Yes," the man replied. "Papa Khan is well aware that the goals of the Khans will coincide with those of the Legion from now on. But we wouldn't consider this merger if we didn't believe the goals of the Khans were mostly the same as those of the Legion already."

"What goals would that be?" Regis asked. "Since you seem so convinced they coincide, you must know what they are, right?"

"The destruction of the NCR, for starters", the emissary immediately said. "That is all the goal we require from the Khans, and it's one you already have."

"Exactly," Papa Khan rumbled. "Or did we all forget about what happened at Bitter Springs? The NCR has to pay." He pointed a finger at Melissa. "You dare disagree with that, and I'll split you in two from head to crotch right here and now." The crossed axes hanging on the wall behind him did seem like they were there for more than just decoration.

"I don't disagree," Melissa said, only slightly shifting in her seat after that threat. "But I think there's other ways of makin' 'em pay than joinin' this bunch just on a 'common enemy' basis."

Karl the emissary crossed his arms. "Other ways? Such as?"

"Such as showin' em you ain't afraid of 'em," Melissa said fiercely. "Showin' em they _need_ the Khans."

"Why would we possibly want to show the NCR it needs us?" Regis asked. He actually seemed interested in the answer instead of just asking it to work Melissa into a corner.

"What you're showing by joining the Legion", En said, nervous as Hell, "is that the Khans need the Legion to fight the Big Bad NCR. You _might_ be able to beat the NCR, but you'll never get their respect."

"It'll be empty revenge," Melissa agreed. "They'll just see the Khans as opportunists. Isn't it much better to have them fall on their knees at our- ... at your feet in gratitude?"

"No," the head Khan replied bluntly. "The NCR has to burn."

"I... don't think we should dismiss what Melissa is saying without listening," Regis said carefully. "Let's hear what they have to offer."

Melissa nudged her chin at the Legion emissary. "He's gotta leave though."

Karl fumed. "How _dare_ you make demands that – "

"We'll humour them," Papa Khan said, even though his glare said he wasn't happy to do so. "Give us a moment, Karl."

"But – "

"Out," Regis simply said.

Seeing it tactically advantageous to replace his livid face with an arrogant sneer, Karl rose. "Of course. I'm sure these mutts will have something _spectacular_ to offer."

They waited until the Legion suck-up was out.

"You know the Legion has _no_ intention of giving the Khans any sort of autonomy, right?" Melissa asked, her question clearly directed at Regis. She was clearly putting all her money on him, and it wasn't a bad idea.

Regis answered, "They say they do, and we have no... real reason to doubt that."

"Because the Legion has a rich history of diverse groups happily uniting under their banner, right?" En asked.

"We do not concern ourselves with history, you insolent whelp," Papa Khan barked. Erk, bad move. "And either you tell us who the Hell you are, or I'm kicking you out with my axe up your ass."

"Errr, no, axes up asses won't be necessary. I'm En. En Tessara. And I," she cleared her throat nervously, "I'm the new ruler of New Vegas."

A silence fell, but it was promptly torn apart by loud, barking laughter. Papa Khan had thrown his head back, and sat guffawing, his eyes closed and his hands on his belly. Melissa, Regis and En just sat there, keeping quiet and letting him get it out of his system. He kept roaring laughter for almost a minute, then theatrically wiped away a guffaw-induced tear. "I should hack off your dumb-faced head for lyin' to me, but you made me laugh so I'll let it slide this once."

"She's not lyin'," Melissa said flatly.

"Don't you fuckin' start, degenerate," Papa warned, all mirth gone from his face.

"It's true, though," En insisted. "House has left the building, so to speak. And I'm in control of everything now."

The head Khan's eyes told her that he realized that maybe, just _maybe_, there was a chance she was telling the truth.

"She doesn't lie," Melissa added. "An' I sure don't. I know you were never particularly fond of me, Papa, but dammit, I have _never_ lied to you. An' I didn't come here just to start."

Papa's eyes briefly went to Regis, who gave a slight nod.

"Right. Let's just _say_ I believe you. What would you be offerin' then?"

En shifted in her seat. The moment of truth. This Papa Khan guy was even more volatile than she'd thought, and she hoped Melissa had known what she was doing when they'd set off. "The uh... the offer's this. We know a Legion attack is waiting to happen. They'll come across the Hoover Dam and plough over anyone who stands in their way."

"Not exactly makin' it more appealin' to choose sides against 'em, ratty-face," Papa Khan said absently, picking his teeth with his fingernail.

En ignored the insult. "When they cross, you want to be just gristle for their machine? Because that's what you'll be." She was hoping she was doing a semi-decent job at being convincing, but since Melissa kept silent, she assumed she was. Her heart beat hard in her chest. "You won't even make it across the Dam. The Legion will put you in front so the NCR can waste its ammunition on you."

"Like fuckin' Bitter Springs," Melissa added. "Only this time, they'll be sure to shred _all_ the Khans."

"The... Legion does tend to put newly assimilated groups into the firing line to act as cannon fodder, Papa," Regis said hesitantly. Good, good. If they got this guy on their side, it'd make a big difference.

"They said we'd be given high ranks," Papa Khan went on the defensive, proclaiming his arguments loudly and with accompanying body language. "High-ranking Legion members don't get used as cannon fodder!"

"They're empty promises, Papa," Melissa said with a sigh. "The Legion assimilates or enslaves the groups that join 'em. They don't put 'em in charge or make 'em elites just like that."

Papa Khan bonked his fist on the table. "I've got faith in Karl. The Khans aren't just anyone. A single Khan counts for ten of their soldiers, god dammit."

Errgh, going against him now might be the death of them. En kept quiet and hoped Melissa would know what to say.

"Papa. That's just it. The Legion doesn't like havin' outsiders as elites. They want 'em quiet, inferior, and docile. Bloodthirsty, but weak an' stupid enough to do as they're told."

_Nice one_, Melissa.

It didn't do the trick, however. Papa Khan jumped up from his chair, making it clatter to the ground. "I'm not _fuckin'_ convinced." He regarded En and Melissa with a furious glare. "The Khans are joinin' the Legion. As elites. And that's that."

Melissa opened her mouth, but she didn't have a chance to speak. "_No_ fuckin' discussion! Drag your worthless carcass outta here!"

Regis rose too, and said calmly, "I think you best leave, Mel. I don't think there's anything to be gained by contin – "

"Get outta here, you two! Out!"

En felt Melissa's hand grab her shoulder. "Alright, alright, we're goin'. Regis, you don't mind walkin' us to the border, do you?"

"No. Of course not."

"Regis," Papa rumbled. "Don't let those two bitches give you any crazy ideas, got it?"

"It'll be fine, Papa. I've got personal stuff to settle with Mel, is all. She's not a Khan anymore, but I still want to say goodbye to her."

Papa Khan blew in derision. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

They found themselves outside in the rapidly cooling night air.

"They're gonna lead everyone to the slaughter, Regis," Melissa said quietly. "The Legion. You'll just be bullet sponges for them."

Regis looked back at the longhouse uncertainly. "I don't know, Mel. And it doesn't matter what I think. Papa's mind's made up."

"Yeah," En said. "Think that's pretty clear."

"You can't blame him," Regis said sternly. "A snot-faced teenager with a scarred head proclaiming she's the new boss of New Vegas. Would make the most gullible guy raise an eyebrow."

"It's true, though," Melissa said as they walked, through the now mostly empty camp. "I know it sounds completely mental, but we're not pullin' your leg."

"Be that as it may. Papa's set on the idea. Not much you'll be able to do to change his mind. Especially if involves changing his mind away from taking on the NCR."

En looked at Melissa. "Not much more we can do then, is there?"

"Has to be," Melissa muttered, thinking. "I'm not letting my former brothers an' sisters kill themselves just so they can wear a red cloak for the last seconds of their lives."

"Well," Regis said off-handedly, shrugging as they reached the edge of the camp. "If I were inclined to help, I'd say you could always go through Karl's things, in his tent which is right behind the longhouse. But I'm not, so I won't mention it."

Melissa's mouth widened to a grin. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you just didn't mention."

"Good." Regis said with a short nod. "Then we're clear. 'Goodbye', Melissa. Miss."

"Thanks, Regis," En said.

"For what?" the man asked, his eyes flashing.

En showed her most innocent smile. "For walking us to the edge of the camp like a gentleman, of course."

He only muttered a few irritated words that vaguely sounded like "you're welcome."

As they watched him go, Melissa said, "Welp, looks like this is a job for you, jill."

"I get to do all the fun stuff, don't I?"

"We should be able to sneak back to the longhouse if we're careful. Gettin' late, and not too many guards around. Most'll be guardin' the pass, maybe some at the chem lab. Two more at the front of the longhouse probably."

She turned out to be right, at least about the longhouse. There were only two guards stationed there and they were both looking out over the front of the camp with very little interest or attention.

En quickly threw off her leather armour as they huddled behind the last tent before the longhouse. It'd be easy, just sneak in, go through his stuff, and try to find something, anything, which could be useful. Maybe the guy kept a diary. Evil schemers always did so in the movies, even though it was far and away the stupidest thing they could do. You never knew.

"Be careful, yeah? They're gonna draw an' quarter ya if they catch you in there."

"Gee, and I was just planning on _not_ being careful, thanks for telling me!"

Melissa chuckled. "Alright, you're good to go."

"Mm. Stel, activate stealth mode."

"STEALTH MODE ACTIVATED. IT'S NICE TO BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU AGAIN."

"Um... yeah."

"BATTERIES AT NINETY-NINE PERCENT."

She sneaked out from behind the tent, carefully tiptoeing closer to the longhouse and the tent behind it. She briefly looked back to Melissa, who of course didn't see that she was looking. She should be mostly invisible in the dark, but even with the stealth suit on, the guards could detect the movement as the light bent around her, producing that faint distortion, a ripple in the air in the shape of a person.

The guards didn't even glance her way, however, and she reached the longhouse without much difficulty. "Okay, turn stealth mode off please?"

"STEALTH MODE DEACTIVATED."

She didn't need to be camouflaged anymore, and it was probably best to spare the battery life for emergencies.

Karl's tent was indeed behind the longhouse, nestled between the building and the rock face, nicely out of the wind and probably the sun most of the time too. The 'guest accomodations'. Cute. She ducked under the windows of the longhouse (would be embarrassing if someone saw her creep past from the inside) and got to the tent, zipping it open and slipping inside.

She almost forgot to zip the tent back up, and after that was done, she turned to the stuff inside. The tent itself was fairly big, and divided in two by a sheet that separated the sleeping quarter from the living space. She quickly glanced around to see where she'd be most likely to find something. The guy had erected a small Legion standard inside his tent, a thin pole supporting a red banner topped with a tacky eagle that looked like it was made of melted tin cans. Cute. He probably had a good wank in front of it before going to bed.

The living space didn't really have much in the way of searchables, but there was a big trunk set against the tent wall, and a small backpack on top of it.

She kneeled by the trunk and opened the backpack, rummaging around inside it. Some biscuit, a book titled "Bucolica", various assorted pieces of travelling equipment, but not much else. Bah. Putting the backpack down, she opened the trunk.

Clothes, mostly, and some basic articles of hygiene like towels and a bar of soap – but these all looked like they were Khan property, and placed there for the guests to use. No luck.

Maybe the sleeping quarters held something more interesting.

A sleeping bag, a bedroll, dirty clothes and a water bottle. Great.

But hold on – peeping out from under the mattress was something that looked like the end of a strap. She gently pulled it, and out came a small document pouch. If there was anything to be found in here, this would be it.

She pulled out the papers and started reading in the dim light of the moon, not willing to risk turning on her pip-boy light and making the tent light up in the night. She strained her eyes against the darkness, but no point, she could only make out a word at a time, and even then, probably nowhere near reliably. She'd have to steal it and read it later, with Melissa. Unzipping the front of the stealth suit, she slid the pouch in between the suit's inner lining and her abdomen, then closed it again. Right, time to go.

But as she crept back into the living quarters, she heard the sound of boots scraping over the stones. _FUUUCCCCK!_

Heat rushed up from her chest to her head. Crap, this guy could _not_ catch her here. But it was too late to leave the tent. Shit, shit, shit. She ducked back into the sleeping quarters and waited, hoping for a miracle.

The tent flap was pulled open, and the sounds made by the person who had entered were clearly those of a man. There was a _bonk_ as the trunk lid was opened, a brief rustling, and then the occupant – she had to assume it was Karl – zipped the tent open again.

En breathed a sigh of relief. The guy was leaving.

Her hopes were dashed again as she heard the typical sound of a toothbrush being used. Dammit, dammit, he was gonna go to bed. Of all the times to show up!

En waited with her heart hammering until the teeth-brushing stopped. The next sound was that of liquid splashing against the rock, accompanied by a groan of relief. Yep, the motherfucker was going to bed. _Dammit!_

Still, there was still a chance of getting out of here. All she had to do was bide her time until the right moment, until she could activate the stealth mode and sneak out from under his nose. Hopefully.

The tent was zipped open again, and there was the sound of boots thudding to the ground.

"Activate stealth mode," En whispered, as quietly as she could.

"STEALTH MODE ACITVATED."

She felt the prickling across her skin that told her she was in stealth mode just in time before the tent sheet was opened and Karl ducked into the opening.

En sat hunched in the far corner, hoping to every god she could think of that Karl didn't feel like moving around too much.

So far, so good. He zipped his sleeping bag open, threw off his pullover and pants, and crawled inside. Then he took off his socks and tossed them nonchalantly into the corner where En sat. He looked away, reaching for the pillow that had displaced itself during the last night, and didn't notice the dirty socks landing on an invisible person and getting shaken off. Ew, smelly fucking socks.

"BATTERIES AT SIXTY PERCENT."

He sat up straight again and sniffed, then snorted. Then he calmly inserted his index finger in his left nostril, felt around in there as if he was digging for gold, and pulled it back out, putting his prize in his mouth.

Oh man, _ewww_!

Breathing a sigh of relief, he lay down on the pillow and closed his eyes, shifting a few times to make sure he was comfortable.

"BATTERIES AT FORTY-FIVE PERCENT. STEALTH FIELD UNRELIABLE."

She had preferred to wait a little longer, but she had to go _now_. Carefully lifting her leg over those of Karl, she set her foot down, shifted her weight, and pulled her other foot in. Okay, she was across. Now to get out. Thankfully, the hearty delver had left the tent sheet mostly open.

She slithered through, making only very faint noise in the process. Ho-ho, this was actually gonna work!

At least, she thought so until she tripped over one of the boots lying around, making it roll around with noise that was as loud as an explosion in the still of the night. _Crap, crap, crap_! The sleeping bag briefly rustled, but there was no suspicious face being stuck through the opening.

"BATTERIES AT THIRTY-FIVE PERCENT. STEALTH FIELD INTERMITTENT."

"Okay, turn off stealth mode," she whispered quietly.

"STEALTH MODE DEACTIVATED."

She had to hope Karl didn't suddenly feel like going back to the living quarters to grab his teddy bear.

Quietly, she opened the zipper of the tent sail and snuck out.

Haha! Mission accomplished!

There was still some noise coming through the walls of the longhouse, so En figured everyone was still busy drinking and partying. Good, they'd be none the wiser.

The rest was easy. Taking advantage of the intermittent stealth field, she made it back to Melissa without any trouble.

"Shit, jill, I was just about to storm that tent. Thought he'd caught you an' strangled you or somethin', with how long that took!"

"I know, I almost got caught. But look!" she zipped open the stealth suit and slid out the envelope.

"For a minute there I thought you'd be naked under there," Melissa said with an unreadable face.

"Tch, dream on. But look. If there's anything we can use, it's bound to be in here. Found it under the fucker's mattress."

"Nice. I know a place we can read it in peace, come on."

They walked away from the longhouse, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. "Got a place I used to go, way back when. Not many people knew of it, so should be safe."

"Cool."

The 'place she used to go' turned out to be an old shack, almost completely rotted away, just outside the camp. Just as En opened her mouth to comment on how worthless a secret place that was, Melissa lifted up a few of the rotted boards, exposing a trap door.

The little basement below was certainly not worthless as a secret place.

"Gimme some light," Melissa said, and in the amber light of En's pip-boy, she grabbed a chair, stood on top of it and fiddled with an emergency light.

"Come onnnn... There."

The light blinked into action, lighting up the basement in stark, cold white.

"How 'bout it?" Melissa said with a wide grin, sweeping her hand through the basement interior. There was an old sofa, a stack of magazines, a mattress on the ground, a table and two chairs, and even a small food cabinet still holding two unopened cans. On an empty book rack stood tons of decorative items and toys. A squad of green plastic army men, a portrait of a famous pre-War entertainer painted on velvet, a small light grey cube with a pink heart painted on every side and what looked like burn marks on one corner, a garden gnome with the name CHOMPSKY printed on it, a collection of four weird-ass clown masks with the occasional bullet hole here and there, and tons more.

"Looks uh... homely?"

"I used to hide here when I wanted to be left alone. Every once in a while, I'd sneak in a new piece of furniture at night. Didn't really have a point but I kinda liked buildin' my own place in secret."

En grinned. "That is kinda cool, yeah. Reminds me of that old pre-War story about a postman who brought home rocks during his rounds and built a palace from them."

"Never heard it, but that does sound awesome. Anyway, let's see what's in those papers yeah?"

"Right."

They perused the papers together, sitting at the table like a married couple going through their finances. A lot of it was reference material and kinda pointless, but the last pages were interesting.

"Marchin' orders," Melissa read out loud. Then she murmured as she scanned the document, until her eyes lit up. "Get this, it's from his superiors. This bit's important. Listen," she read out. "It is of the utmost importance to convince the Khans that they will be recruited as elite troops, auxilia under their own banner. Under no circumstance should you mention they are to be positioned at the front during NCR engagements. By the time they realize they've been duped, they'll be slaves anyway."

Melissa looked up at En. "I fuckin' knew it."

"So what happened to the Melissa that said people who joined the Legion just wanted to be on the winning team?"

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. I don't wanna be on the winnin' team if it means killin' innocent people by booby-trappin' corpses or sellin' your allies into slavery. We should take this to Papa."

"Right now?"

"No time like the present. C'mon."

"Karl's in for a surprise," En said with a grin as they walked back in a hurry.

Melissa grinned along. "Yup."

"How stupid can you be to actually leave all that in writing?"

"Probably figured no one was gonna search his tent."

"The sucker."

They'd reached the longhouse, and Melissa took a breath. "Right. Let's see what we're gonna see."

For the second time, she threw the door open with a loud _bang_. This time the silence was shorter, however, as Papa Khan jumped up from his seat. "You again? I _told_ you to leave! Now you're goin' home with a few broken bones unless you've got somethin' _damn good_ to say."

"I don't have much to say," Melissa said, making papa Khan's upper lip curl even further back, "but I do have somethin' to show. Jill?"

"This... uh, this is the marching orders given to your friend Karl. Pay particular notice to the last sentences of the third paragraph."

Papa angrily gestured for Regis to go get the paper. The Khan did so, walking over to Melissa and En, and taking the paper, quietly saying, "I hope it's good."

"It is."

He sighed and began to read. When he reached the sentences in question, he froze and looked again. Then he looked up at Melissa, who met his gaze without a word.

"Papa," he said, turning to his leader. "This is... serious. We should bring in Karl for an explanation."

"Why?" Papa shouted, his mouth full of meat. "What's it say?"

"The... Legion was planning to put us in front during the assault on the NCR, and then turn the rest of us into slaves."

"Show me that paper!" he commanded.

Regis did as he was told, but while he went back to the table, he ordered a Khan to "Get Karl. He has to answer for this."

As the other Khan ran to Karl's tent, Papa read the document, his mouth wringing itself into a hateful grimace as he did so. That was a good response, En figured. Now all that remained was for Karl to confess and not weasel out of it with some lie, as he doubtless would try.

And indeed, when he was brought in and Papa Khan hurled the accusation at him, Karl pretended like he had no idea what it was about.

"Papa, I can honestly say I don't know what's going on. What is all this based on?"

The head Khan held up the paper. "These marching orders, dammit!"

Karl frowned, but kept his poker face brilliantly. "May I see those?"

After getting the nod from Papa, Regis handed them over. Karl pretended to scan them as if he didn't know what was on them already, then said, with an amazing air of casualness, "I've never seen these papers before in my life. They're obviously forgeries. Let me guess, these two happened to come up with them?"

"We did," Melissa said flatly.

"Well, that explains it," Karl said with a nonchalant shrug. "It's obviously part of their plan to undermine our agreement. It's an insult to the Khans and their leader, to be honest."

"You stinkin' liar," Melissa shouted. "You know damn well this shit is yours. It was under your god damn mattress." Murmurs rose from the other Khans, louder and louder.

"Stealing from a guest of the Khans?" Karl scolded. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. That is, if it was actually true. Papa, these people are liars. This dumb brat has clearly deceived one of your ex-members into believing her outlandish story about being the new ruler of New Vegas, and now that her scheme to do the same with the Khans has failed, she resorts to forged documents to try and make a desperate effort to trick you."

"This is ridiculous," Regis interjected. "The proof's right there in black and white. They didn't just run to a printing press and – "

"I'm sorry," Karl interrupted. "Are you speaking for your leader now? I tell you these two are liars."

"Bullshit," En shot back. "You're the liar."

"That's your argument? 'Are too'?"

"Papa," Melissa said. "Come on. What more proof do you need?"

"It's not proof if it's fake," Karl snapped. "This is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to – "

"_Enough_!" Papa shouted, immediately making the hall go silent. After letting the silence sink in, he proclaimed, "We are not turning this into a pointless shouting match. We are Khans. This will not be settled with words. The fight will show who is right and who is wrong." He pointed at En, "You," and then to Karl, "And you." A short pause, and then, "You two will settle this tomorrow at noon. With bare hands. In the trial pit."


	76. Fighting Fate

**.**

**SEVENTY-SIX**

**Red Rock Canyon**

**July 20****th**

**05:21**

En felt like she'd lain awake all night. You'd spend the small hours tossing and turning for less.

Papa Khan had decided that the veracity of En's clearly irrefutable proof would be shown by "the fight". This apparently meant that two people went into the pit of trials, beat each other black and blue, and the last man standing was found to be 'right'. Not only was it primitive as Hell, but what kind of basis was that to settle a trial? And worst of all, Papa Khan had insisted that the fight go between Karl and En. Not Karl and Melissa, no, no. Karl and En. His reasoning had been dubious to say the least, but the man's word was law, even Regis carefully trying to make it clear that the fight was completely unfair didn't move him. Melissa had offered and even insisted to take En's place, of course, but Papa Khan wouldn't have it. He'd kept babbling that if she was telling the truth, 'the fight' would prove it, no matter how unevenly the battle was pitched. Through it all, Karl had praised Papa Khan for his fair judgment, and made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was looking forward to giving En a good thrashing , or as he put it, 'break all your ribs and wring you out like a dishrag', prompting ire from almost everyone else. The evening had ended with Papa Khan going red in the face and shouting that if people didn't shut the Hell up, he and his axe would make sure nobody would have to fight anymore. That had cooled people's spirits real quick. Melissa had been her usual confident self, saying they'd think of something tomorrow, but as they were led to another (guarded) guest tent, this one just a sheet mounted with two poles, unlike Karl's luxury accommodations, En still hadn't come up with anything, and she doubted Melissa would have either.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Melissa' whisper didn't come entirely unexpected.

"No, of course not. That guy is gonna break me in half tomorrow."

"You don't know that. Hey, you could win, right?"

En appreciated the vote of confidence, but it was clearly nothing more than empty encouragement. "Me? Win? I couldn't beat a grandma with a walker in a fight, let alone some tough Legion dude."

"He ain't that tough."

"He's tougher than I am."

"Sides, ain't about toughness. I've seen little scrawny buggers floor guys twice their size. Strength dun' really matter. In each an' every fight I've seen, it was always the guy who was scared the least who came out on top."

"Well, _good_, seeing as I'm scared shitless."

"Let's do somethin' about that."

"What, now?"

"Yeah. It's still early. C'mon, get up. We're goin' sparrin'."

Wait, what? "Uh, you're going to give me a crash course in fist fighting? _Now_?"

"Well... yeah. Not like we're gonna sleep anymore is it?"

"You might. You won't get stomped on your head until it's mush in a few hours."

Melissa's whisper came back annoyed. "_No_, but leavin' aside the fact that I don't wanna see you get hurt, I've also got a lot ridin' on this, remember?" Yeah, true. If she lost, the Khans would join the Legion and get shredded by NCR bullets, and any Khans remaining would be slaves. With a sigh, Melissa added, "Funny how they kick me out for lettin' you drag me around in cuffs, but they're perfectly fine with puttin' the cuffs on themselves."

"People like to build their prison walls, I s'pose."

"Mm. Come on, get up."

"I prefer to spend the last hours of my life in a warm sleeping bag."

"Oh knock off your drama. C'mon, let's make a gladiator outta you."

"Maybe something less Roman-themed would be better?"

"Shit yeah." Melissa chuckled. "C'mon, let's do this."

The guards hadn't made a fuss when Melissa told them they were going practicing. They'd just trudged behind them, supposedly 'for their protection'. Which really meant that they were there from stopping the soon-to-be combatant from fleeing. And they'd come along to the trial pit, where En would be turned into mincemeat in a few hours. The circle of trials was just that – a circle, ringed with sharpened poles, set far enough apart to make sure bystanders could see what was happening inside. On the north side, the dirt was shored up to create a sort of platform, presumable the place from where Papa Khan watched and presided over the beatings. Melissa had explained that the main purpose of the circle was to 'vet new members', which in reality meant that the prospect was dumped in the pit with several full members, and had to endure a terrible beating for a certain amount of time, and if he could take it without going unconscious or insult the onlookers by dying, he was in. En couldn't believe things like these still existed.

"Right," Melissa said, dropping her bag at the edge of the circle and walking in. "Most important thing durin' a fight?"

"Uh...keep your guard up?" En tried, saying what sounded logical.

"Close, and definitely important, but no. Most important thing is to _always keep your eyes on your enemy_," Melissa lectured. "The quickest way to gettin' your arse handed to you is by pressin' your eyes closed or tuckin' your head into your chest. _Always_ keep your eyes on the other bloke. I can't stress this enough. Your natural instinct will be to protect your face and flinch, but don't." Melissa indicated the spot in front of her. "C'mon, get over here an' show me you're payin' attention."

In the dim light of dawn, En stepped into the circle of trials, as she would do again in a few hours, under the burning sun and with all the Khans around her, too short-sighted to think of anything else than the fact that they'd get to witness a good old-fashioned beating.

"Bring your guard up, like this," Melissa said, raising her hands and holding her elbows close to her chest, looking over her balled fists. En imitated the gesture as well as she could. "Tch, that ain't no guard, c'mon," Melissa scolded, coming to stand behind her and correcting her stance with gentle but firm hands. "And put one foot forward, your left. Divide your weight into a triangle and you'll be far more stable."

Melissa came to stand in front of her again, and began teaching. "Put your weight into your punches." "Don't try kicks like those without proper trainin', he'll take advantage of your bad balance." "Don't pull back before strikin', use your explosive strength to make your fist lash out." "For fuck's sake take your thumb out of your fist!" "Don't stand there nailed to the ground, when I shift position, shift with me or you're off balance." "Don't be afraid to give 'im a good kick in the balls when you've got the chance, this is all-or-nuthin', an' you gotta use every dirty trick you've got." "A lot of people think they're invulnerable when they're close enough, but show 'em how fast an' hard a head butt can hit." "Don't let your damn guard down." "Remember, white folks are bleeders 'cause of their sharper skull features." "No, not like _that_!" "Nice feint, but too obvious." "Follow-up when you get a hit in." "Ow! Hey, I'm not that Legion guy, save the face-breakin' for later!" "Watch out, you're exposed." "Nose is a good target, hit it right and he'll be disoriented an' blinded." "You can let yourself get angry but don't whip yourself into a frenzy either." "Yeah, nice, you're gettin' the hang of it." "Left hand disorients, right hand does the damage."

Three hours had gone by, and Melissa had been teaching with only short breaks here and there. "Right. Breather."

En welcomed the announcement with open arms. She was soaked with sweat and her heart hammered in her chest. Her muscles felt like rubber. She'd taken in as much of Melissa's teachings as she could, but she still felt hopeless. She probably was.

"Hey next time, we need to do this with 'Eye of the Tiger' playing in the background."

Melissa gave a short chuckle before gulping down a bottle of water and then tossing En one. "Feel like you're more ready now?"

"I do. Thanks, Melissa. But..."

Melissa sighed. "I know. It's too little, too late. You still don't stand much of a chance."

After shooting a quick look at the disinterested guards, she asked quietly, "think there's a chance we can... you know, cheat?"

"Cheat? Like how?"

"I don't know. Sneak in a weapon or something?"

Melissa frowned. "That'd be more than cheatin'. It's still the circle of trials, jill. Still somethin' that's important to the Khans. An' to me. Sides you'd never get away with it. Everyone will be watching. You can't just shank 'im an' not expect people to notice."

"So, what then?"

"I don't know, jill."

They sat in silent thought for a few minutes, until En realized something. "Wait, hold on... they _are_ the Khans, right? And one of the things they're good at is cookin' up chems. Maybe we can try something in that direction?"

"Chems?" Melissa asked, irritated. "You a total fruitcake?"

"No. But maybe a little boost will make a difference. I'm not talking about shooting myself up until I'm some roid-raged psycho, but something to dull the pain or get my nerves under control might help."

"So you wanna become a chemhead?" Melissa asked angrily. "You can win this without that filth, En."

En crossed her arms defiantly. "You really believe that?"

Melissa had to admit, "No. No, I don't think you stand much of a chance. But chems?"

En snorted. "You were a Khan, Melissa. Don't tell me chems make you squeamish?"

"Look. You just gotta wonder if the cure is better than the disease here. You're sixteen, and chems... chems wreck more than you'd like."

"This Legion guy will wreck me much harder. Because Melissa, you heard how he talked. This guy wasn't all 'let's keep it clean', or 'I regret having to do this'." Melissa kept quiet. "Melissa. This man will beat me to death if he gets the chance."

"Fine," she suddenly exclaimed. "But he's gonna notice if you're hopped up on chems and call cheatin'."

"So I just take them after I step into the circle."

It was Melissa's turn to snort. "Sure, just go 'oi, Legion bloke, 'old on a sec while I shoot myself full of buffout."

Shit yeah, that was true. There wouldn't be time or opportunity to administer the chems. Maybe Melissa could shoot a dart – no come on, that was ridiculous. There had to be a way though.

And there was.

"I've got it. Shit, I'm stupid. There's an easy way to inject the chems right before the battle."

"Oh," Melissa said, visibly disappointed. "Good."

"Melissa. I need to do this. I'm between a rock and a hard place, okay?"

"Look, I don't wanna argue about it. Let's just get it done. Jack an' Diane will help us out." To the two guards, she said, "We're gonna head to Jack an' Diane, get some stuff prepared for the road."

The guards nodded, but one said, "Just make sure your 'stuff for the road' isn't too visible before she gets in the circle."

Jack and Diane lived in a trailer at the edge of the camp, and the collection of tables, flasks, buckets, hoses, vials, tanks, bottles, pans and beakers made it clear that they ran the chem lab around here. Jack sat on a bench, smoking a joint, a distant stare in his eyes. He was the one En and Melissa had given their guns to. Guns they still hadn't gotten back.

"Yo yo yo," Jack greeted her with the stereotypical druggie way of talking. "One-four-eight-three to the three to the six to the nine, representin' the RRC, what up biaaatch?"

"Hey. My friend needs your help." Melissa didn't seem too happy to ask him provide it.

"Need some relaxants, kid?" The man asked, not even asking what they were for. "Or some stimulants?"

"Well uh... I've got the fight coming up, and..."

"No need to be nervous, kid," Jack said with a chortle, pulling himself up from the bench. "It's borderline criminal to let a kid like you get torn apart by that Legion bully. Whatcha need?"

En noticed that Melissa looked away. "I uh, need something to calm my nerves, and well... something to numb the pain. And give me strength, if that's possible." She realized full well that she was asking for chems, addictive substances that were only taken by losers and dumbshits. But what was the alternative? Getting pasted by a guy twice her size, _that_ was the alternative. It really was between a rock and a hard place. God dammit Melissa for persuading her to come here. "But just... for a minute or so. Y'know, a short bang and then gone."

Jack whistled between his teeth. "Tall order, kid. But you're in luck. You're standing in front of the best chem cooker in the Mojave."

Melissa grudgingly admitted, "He's right."

"Okay, um... I'm scared to death, but I need this or that guy will kill me. Here's three hundred. Cook me up something hard." She felt hear heart sink as she asked it. Chems. She was giving up a part of herself and she knew it.

"For three hundred, I'll cook up the fiery breath of Satan himself," Jack said, gathering a bunch of flasks and other cooking equipment. "Be a doll and hand me some muriatic acid, caustic soda and hydrogen chloride. In that order, or we'll blow this lab sky high."

En did as she was told, picking out the containers after scanning the clumsily-applied labels.

"This might take a half hour, at least."

"Sure."

"I'm gonna go for a shit," Melissa announced bluntly, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, Jack poured one liquid into another and told En, "Mel's not a big fan of chems."

"Yeah, well, I'm not either. But it doesn't make sense in her case, does it? Why does she hate chems?"

"She's not a fan of chems _anymore_. That ought to answer your question, right?"

"... Yeah, I suppose it does." Huh, so Melissa had apparently been a bit of a chem head in the day.

Even though Jack had just told her he'd answered her question, he still went on, holding a beaker in front of his eyes and swirling the contents around. "Known Mel since she was your age. Hard as nails, she was."

"Yeah, still is," En said. "So I'm not surprised to hear that."

"Exactly. But she was always eager to prove herself. That she was in control, you know? She when she started doin' chems, I'm still a hundred percent sure it was 'cause she wanted to prove she was stronger'n them. But chems, man... you do too much, an' they get you, no matter how strong y'are."

"So, what... she got addicted?"

"That's puttin' it lightly. In the end, she and her boyfriend were doin' so much that we had to rush to their tent one night. Found her boyfriend covered in shit an' puke, his face purple. Mel was next to 'im completely off her rocker, wailin' like a child, puke on her chin an' her shirt. Went into cardiac arrest seconds after. We pulled her through, but was too late for her boyfriend. Kid went to the great opium plantation in the sky, Mel got locked up to kick the chems. Spent a week beggin' an' cryin' and wailin' to get her fix, but Papa didn't budge. She came out clean, but at her age, watchin' your boyfriend die because you were stupid with your chems, an' spendin' more'n a week alone with nuthin' but your withdrawal an' your guilt, that leaves a mark, kid."

"I... can imagine. Geez, poor Melissa."

He chuckled. "Don't let 'er hear you say that. But yeah, ever since then, she an' chems 'aven't been best friends. Which is stupid, 'cause it ain't the chems that kill, it's people not usin' 'em in moderation."

Shit, Melissa had had some life.

"Papa handled it well, considerin'."

"Considering what?"

"Well, he realized the kid had done it to 'imself, but it's still hard not to hate the accomplice when you're so closely involved. Mel's boyfriend was his kid."

No shit. So the whole 'Papa caught me doing the nasty too often' had been an excuse. En had known right away that that hadn't been all there was to it, but damn. She hadn't expected this.

But alright. Melissa hadn't told her about it so she obviously wouldn't appreciate En confronting her with it.

"You uh... got any idea how you're gonna administer this?"

"I do."

"Cool." He didn't ask further.

Melissa came trudging down the hill again, her business apparently done. "Remind me to bring dunny paper next time. Had to use my shiny New Vegas passport for wipin'."

"Almost done, kiddo," Jack said. The word still made En's stomach cramp, but she didn't mention it.

"Nuthin' too strong, y'got that?" Melissa said, her tone unmistakable.

"Yeah yeah. Diane! _Diane_!"

A worn-looking woman came dragging herself out of the trailer. Her hair was a horrible shade of bleach blonde and looked even drier than straw.

"Lady here placed an order for three hundred. Vial it and settle the money, will ya."

"Sure," the bleach blonde grated, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.

"Made you some short-rush homemade buffout, laced with a smattering of home-cooked psycho for dulling the pain, and just a touch of jury-rigged steady for the nerves."

"This... won't kill me, right?" En asked as she dumped the coins on the table in front of the bleach blonde. She'd heard of buffout and psycho and they were mean-ass chems. Buffout reputedly boosted muscle strength and psycho was derived from a strong military stimulant that let its user ignore pain. She'd never heard of steady, but she didn't doubt it was filthy stuff.

"Nope, I know what I'm doin'. For your build, this dosage should give around half a minute of fun. You'll crash afterward, 'course, so make sure the fight's over by then."

She took the vials, feeling them clink into her hand. There were six of them.

"I kinda overcooked," Jack said sheepishly. "Extra doses are on the house."

"I only need one," En said, holding them back out to Diane.

Jack shrugged. "Then throw 'em to bits on the rocks, I don't care."

En didn't know what to do, so she just let the vials slide in her pocket.

"Almost time, jill," Melissa said flatly. "Better do whatever it is you wanna do an' get to the circle."

"All I need to do is change," En said.

"Into what? You're already wearin' your battle dress."

"And I'll be wearing it again when I'm done changing. You'll see."

"Urgh."

It was time, indeed. En had to change in a rush and jog to the trial circle, where Melissa already stood waiting. As well as ninety-percent of all the Khans. All of them except those on guard duty. En preferred to think they were here to see how their future would play out, but really, they were probably all here just to watch the fight.

Papa already sat on a high-necked chair that was almost a throne, with Regis flanking him.

"Good. You showed up," Papa Khan chortled. "Was afraid you'd flushed yourself down the toilet."

"I could have," En shot back, "if your toilets were actually more than holes in the ground."

"They do the job just fine," Papa Khan called back, unperturbed.

In the circle, Karl already stood waiting, flexing his neck to make an impression. Probably seen it in the movies. It had more of an effect on En than she wanted to admit.

"Remember, jill," Melissa said, taking En's shoulder and looking her in the eye. "Keep your eyes up, and your guard up. If you can avoid the chems, then _please_ do so. I _know_ you can do this."

"I'll do my best, Melissa, promise."

"Your best?" Melissa scolded. "Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home an' fuck the prom queen."

"Yeah. Well, the prom queen's about to beat the shit out of me. So if you'll excuse me?"

Melissa nodded. "Be careful, jill."

"I will."

En stepped into the circle of trials, under the burning midday sun. Her stomach felt like it had contracted to the size of a pea, and her heart had turned into a jackhammer. Karl's evil grin of anticipation widened as she stepped forward.

"Khans!" Papa Khan shouted, making the whole of Red Rock Canyon fall silent. "We have before us a duel. A duel that will determine if the allegations levelled by... uh..."

"En Tessara," En called to him. "Geez."

"... at the person of Karl, Emissary of the Legion, are true and founded. The fight will determine guilt and innocence, and both parties, as well as all the Khans, will abide by its outcome."

Regis came down and stepped into the circle, taking En's and Karl's wrists. "I want a clean fight," he told them both. "No weapons, no lethal force. If one yields", he looked extra hard at Karl, "the fight _ends_. Is that clear?"

"Yeah man," Karl grunted. En merely nodded, her throat too dry to speak.

Regis let go of their wrists and took a step back. In a futile gesture of sportsmanship, En held out her two fists at him, but he didn't return the salute, spitting on the ground instead of bumping her fists. "I'm gonna enjoy wrecking you." Asshole.

"Then in the name of the Khans, let the fight begin!" Regis announced, withdrawing from the circle.

It was on now. The pointers Melissa had given all turned to mush in En's head. She saw Karl take on a boxing stance and remembered to do the same. But her guard was completely pathetic against Karl's attack, and his first punch broke right through and socked her in the cheek. She staggered backward, pain thudding in her cheek.

"You're makin' this easy, maggot," Karl gloated, giving her the time to clear her head. En was perfectly aware he wasn't doing it out of a sense of fair-play. This was gonna be a thrashing. All she could do was hope it didn't hurt _too_ badly.

"If you despair, you've already lost!" she heard Melissa shout. "Get 'im, jill!"

She was right. She had to go on the attack – if she stayed on the defensive, he'd pound on her until she was incapacitated. Trying a quick left-right combination like Melissa had shown her, En fought back. The left jab glanced off Karl's wrist, but the right one went through, mashing his lip, but not even bloodying it. Her hand felt like it was broken. She'd probably done more damage to herself than to him.

Karl grinned again, still overconfident. "Hoping it won't be a complete embarrassment, are you? Sorry, but you're emptying the cup to the bottom."

Before she knew what happened, Karl whacked her around the ear with a left hook, then smashed his fist into her face. She felt her eyebrow make a loud and hard _pop_, and then it went numb. Her ears rang, her vision spun, and all the strength went out of her arms. All she could feel was warm blood running down her face. Her body was being shaken again, this time a hard right that socked her in the jaw, making it shatter into a thousand pieces. She felt her legs give out and she went down, spinning around and landing face in the dirt, only a few metres from Melissa.

"Get up, En," Melissa said calmly. "I believe in you."

"I h... huh... have to..." En wheezed, dirt puffing up as she spoke. "Sorry, Melissa..." Blood ran into one of her eyes, putting a yellow film over her vision.

Melissa closed her eyes, her head lowered. "It's alright, jill. Do what you need to, I don't want to see you get injured even more.

She had to. Karl would break her face completely, the second she was back on her feet. And then it'd be game over, for her, and for the Khans. They'd be led to the slaughter, following their President into a suicidal battle with the NCR. Melissa would be devastated. So would En. Literally.

"Stuh-hurrrk!"

Two hands grabbed her by the jacket and pulled her up. As her powerless neck raised her head, she looked right into Karl's eyes. One hand had her suspended like a rag doll, the other was pulled back, ready to beat her straight in the face.

"Yield, you worthless piece of shit. Yield or I'm putting my fist right through your head.

"Stel..."

Karl blinked. "What?"

"Stel, do it."

"ADMINISTERING UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE."

A blast went through En, a surge so powerful it made all her muscles go taut, so hard it felt like she'd break her own back. The pain was driven away in an instant, and all her muscles blasted back to strength. At the same time, all fear was pounded out of her body, and an uncontrollable bloodlust made itself master of her. She heard herself let out an animalistic roar.

"What the..." Karl was flat-footed for a moment, but then he realized he had to end it right then and there. Pistoning his fist forward, he smacked it straight into En's face. En registered the sound, but no more than that. Her muscles screaming in superhuman strength, she watched her fist smack into Karl's face, first once, then twice, until he let her go. Blood spurted from the bastard's face with every blow. He had time to look up in confusion, before En's fist found his face again, blowing straight into his mouth and smashing out several teeth. As in slow motion, En saw her knuckles cutting themselves open on the broken teeth, the jagged edges slowly slicing open the skin, making the blood spill out in big red drops.

Karl staggered backward, blinded and howling, holding his face.

En didn't even think of the possibility of asking him to yield. She was a spectator, and she could only see it happen, all in slow motion, through a haze of red. She felt her body gathering its strength for another blow, and there it went, En's slashed-open knuckles connecting with his eye socket and breaking the bone. The eye socket collapsed inward, and the jagged, splintery edges of bone dug into his eyeball, distorting its shape before it was obscured by the blood. Through a haze of red, En saw Karl stagger back and fall over backward into the dirt.

"Stop! Stop!" she heard him squeal, miles away. "Enough!"

"Karl has yielded," Regis' voice sounded, even further away. "The fight is over."

Her muscles trembling, En managed to command her body to stand still, and she remained where she was, her fists balled at her sides. Slowly, the rush went out of her and all the pain gradually came back in all its throbbing, pounding agony. Her nose was the worst, pulsating in pure torment, the pain pounding so hard it made her eyes water. She shook on her feet once, then twice, then felt herself falling over.


	77. Horns of Victory

**.**

**SEVENTY-SEVEN**

**Red Rock Canyon**

**July 20****th**

**14:33**

She hadn't been out as such, just dazed. Melissa had helped her up and supported her back to their tent, then laid her gently on the mattress. Some time had gone by, but she hadn't registered it fully. Now her senses were finally coming back to normal.

"Feelin' better?"

She hadn't had a seizure. That she was sure of. It had probably been a combination of the chems and the damage she'd suffered that had taken all the strength from her. And now, the chems were worn off, and all she could feel was excruciating pain and disorientation. Her nose was broken, of that she was pretty sure. The eyebrow had popped when she was still conscious, and her jaw had gotten a serious whack as well. And of course, her old friend mister Headache let himself be heard as well. There was a sharp pain in her hand too, but it didn't feel like bone damage. Right, she'd slashed it open on the teeth of that jackass.

"How... how... am I?"

Melissa grinned, slowly swimming in En's vision. "Well, you were the last man, errr, person standin', so that's the main thing."

"And the uh... injuries?"

Melissa shrugged. "Nuthin' too serious. Nose is broken, but it'll heal. Diane came over, don't know if you registered that?"

Oh yeah, there had been a bleach blonde sitting at her bedside, mucking around with her face, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. She vaguely remembered some semblance of medical care. Pinpricks in her eyebrow, stuff being taped to her face. Hand being bandaged. "Right. Yeah."

"Gave you a stimpak, an' splinted your nose. Sutured the eyebrow. Was popped all the way to China."

"Ungh. My jaw?"

"Just bruised. Your face'll be black an' blue for a while, but no permanent damage. Just a few scratches."

Yeah, 'just a few scratches'. Of course, to Melissa, even a nuclear bomb falling on her head was 'just a few scratches'. "Hurts like Hell."

Melissa's grin widened. "Yup. It'll pass."

_Thud thud thud thud thud_. The pain in her face pulsated along with her heartbeat. What misery.

"DID I DO OKAY?" the earwig in her ear asked. How it hadn't popped out was a mystery.

"Not now, Stel. They uh... say anything about the chems?"

"Notta thing," Melissa said, shaking her head. You were obviously clean when you went in, and you didn't shoot anythin' up durin' the fight. An' even then. You're the last man standin', that's the only thing that matters."

"How'd... the other guy look?"

Melissa chuckled at the question. "Oh jill, you've done a right number on 'im. Several teeth knocked clean out, a few more broken. Jaw dislocated, nose completely smashed to mush. Broke 'is eye socket too, pretty sure he'll lose the eye."

"Geez." She felt oddly guilty about it.

"Hey, he'd have done the same to you, given 'alf a chance. You'd be feeling even worse if you'd let 'im."

"I suppose. So, that means the Khans...?"

"They're havin' council right now. Just a formality, probably. The fight's sacred an' all that. Even if Papa doesn't wanna side with us, he'll never challenge the outcome of the fight. He's stubborn, but I'd never doubt his integrity."

"Probably what... made him refuse to... believe us in the first place." Well, part of the reason at least.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. You've won, an' the Khans are with us. If there's people havin' doubts, I'm sure Regis can convince 'em. He's always been persuasive."

"That's good. Don't say I never do anything for you."

Melissa grinned, but her eyes were dead serious. "Thank you, En. You could have walked away, but you didn't. You uh... did me a huge favour today. I'm in your debt, yeah?"

"Tch, that's fine. You get coffee-making duty for the week and it's settled."

"Heh, cool. I can live with that."

"When I'm feeling better, we're getting out of here, though. Getting me some decent medical attention. You'll forgive me for not having _too_ much faith in someone who bandages people while smoking a cigarette."

"No, Diane's pretty shitty, but it's all we've got. All they've got."

"It's a miracle they're still alive then."

"That's more because they're all tough buggers, not Diane's merit."

She felt her eyelids getting heavy. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna close my eyes for a bit, that okay?"

"Sure. I'll go 'round the camp, gather news an' say 'hi' to some people. I'll check on you every hour, so just holler if you feel up to travellin'."

"Alright."

"Just... don't look in a mirror without supervision. Your face looks worse than it is."

Oh man, really? "What do you mean?"

"Just swellin' an' bruisin'. It looks dramatic, but it'll all go away in a day or two."

"Oh. Nothing permanent, right?"

"Nope. Only thing that might look slightly different is your nose, but we'll see when it's healed."

"If it doesn't heal right, you're paying for a rhinoplasty, you hear?"

"If this goes right, jill, you'll be swimmin' in money soon. I wouldn't worry about the price of a measly nose job."

"Not sure I'm all that keen on 'swimmin' in money' if it involves getting more beatings like these. Gonna close my eyes for a sec now, 'kay?"

"Sure. Take it easy."

En only muttered an acknowledgement as she drifted off into sleep.

She awoke again with pain pounding everywhere, even worse than before. Crap, now the chems and the stim had _really_ worn off, at least the sedative effects. She felt like she'd been hit by a god damn truck. Oh man oh man oh man. Pains like these always felt like they'd last forever... although to be honest with herself, she had never felt pain like this in her life.

No, she had. When she woke in on Doc Mitchell's house. It had only been her head that hurt, but the pain had been just as intense. If anything, this pain seemed more bearable – sharper and more acute, but also thankfully more localized, not like the headache that whooshed through her entire body with every move she made. It was only certain locations that hurt, not her entire body.

Still, crap. Not without considerable effort, and pain-biting, she sat up straight. Phew, it was pain alright, but nothing like the headache. Sitting up when she'd been shot had sent dull but powerful pain through her body, making her nauseous and feeling completely shitty. It had been like a hangover, only much more intense. And like anyone who'd ever had a hangover could attest, the pain was only part of the shittiness. It was the all-round feeling that every bit you move felt horrible, not just painful but also extremely tiring, nauseating and completely undermining one's will to live. This, this was just injuries. Like Melissa had said, just a scratch.

A really, really, _really_ painful scratch.

There was very little after-effect of the chems. Sore muscles, but that was to be expected. Some fatigue, of course. But no puking or hallucinating or delirious babbling. Not even nausea. It felt just like she'd spent the entire day moving furniture. But she guessed that was the insidiousness of chems. They only made you feel miserable when you were well and truly hooked and you didn't give yourself your fix.

She wasn't about to let that happen. This had been a one-time emergency situation and nothing more. She'd heard enough about addictions to realize she did _not_ want one on her hands. She'd even read about it; one of the statue girl's companions had become seriously hooked on anti-radiation medicine. She's apparently had horrible withdrawal symptoms, and En didn't feel like having some of her own. No thank you.

Apart from her rolled-up sleeve, everything still seemed to be pretty much the way it had been left when she'd fallen over in the fighting pit. If she hadn't been so damn injured, she'd be able to hop off the bed and take off right away. But yeah, a good breather would be nice first. Maybe another stim. Good thing those weren't addictive. They just flat-out killed you if you used too many of them. The heart was pretty bad at taking the strain. One or two was usually fine, but for a girl her size, three was a bit much, four would be flirting with danger, and five had a good chance of making her drop dead outright. Men could take one or two more (damn them!), also depending on their size. There were also super stimpaks that came with an arm brace, but those were typically only carried by soldiers, and using one was almost certain to cause permanent heart damage because of the cardiac inhibitors it was mixed with. One had to stay away from those except if really on the brink of death – and then it was usually too late to use it.

Melissa had foreseen En'd need, and on a stool next to the bed lay a small stimpak hypo. It was less than the usual dose, but maybe that wasn't such a bad idea with the chem residues probably still swimming around in her blood.

Ugh, sticking needles in her own veins. She considered herself a girl that had faced quite a fair bit of trials and tribulations by now, but sticking a needle in oneself remained a pretty daunting prospect. She held the stimpak in her fist, poised to push it into her upper arm, but before she could, the tent sail opened and Melissa stuck her head in. "C'mon you sook, I'll do it."

"Yeah, thanks."

Melissa sat down on the stool and took over the stim. "Look away."

There was a short pinprick, and that was it. Immediately she felt the stim's sedating effects spread over her body. Ooahh, that felt nice.

"That's all yer gettin' though," Melissa said. "You'll have to walk the rest off."

"I'm good, I'm good."

"Those two stims combined should heal everything except the nose in about two days. Well, heal it to a reasonable level at least. I'd estimate new pink skin on that hand in a week or so."

Oh yeah, her hand. How bad was that? "Imma take a look, see how bad it is."

"Sure, just don't jump all the way to the ceiling."

Carefully, En unwound the bandage around her hand. As it came loose, she got more and more aware of a sticky feeling between her hand and the bandage, and as she took off the last of it, she saw two deep, jagged cuts going from her knuckles, over her metacarpals, almost all the way to her wrists. The bandage was sticky with yellow excretion, and the skin around the tears was almost purple. Strings of yellow slime made thin little bridges from the wound to the lifted bandage. "Hoo-ee," En breathed. "That looks nasty." The cuts were clumsily sutured together, the threads soaked with pus. The whole thing didn't smell very good.

"Looked even worse before," Melissa pointed out. "No tendons hit, but could actually see the bone when Diane held it open."

"Shit," En said, not sure whether she should be awed or disgusted.

"But we need to get that disinfected and re-done. Maybe stop by that one doctor's place?"

"Usanagi?"

"Finally got her name right, congrats. But yeah."

En looked at the wound again, her mouth pulled into an unsure pout. "Yeah. Yeah, might be best."

"Think you can walk?"

"Only if I'm allowed to complain nonstop."

Melissa grinned again. "I can live with that. C'mon, let's go see what the Khans have decided."

The walk was painful, but not as terrible as she'd thought. The stim was doing its job, and the pain in her eyebrow was reduced to 'only' an irritating throb. Her nose was still a pounding knot and her hand felt like it was twice its size, but all in all, she could walk pretty decently. After all, it hadn't been any supporting structures that had been smacked around.

"Ah!" Papa Khan exclaimed, surprising En with the pride beaming off his voice. "The victor returns!"

En threw a confused look at Melissa who only offered a subtle nod of reassurance.

"Uh, hi. How's Karl?"

Papa blew, "Nevermind that puny weakling, it'll be a while before he can do the hokey pokey. We're sendin' him back in one piece, so he can deliver our answer to the Legion, but it'll be a very long and painful walk. There is _no way_ you could have defeated him unless right was on your side. For a minute there, we thought he was gonna turn you into tomato juice, but damn it if you didn't come back swingin'."

"Heh, yeah. I showed him good," En said, unable to hide her embarrassment completely.

"I must say," Regis added. "You swing hard for such a little girl." His look held a lot more than Papa's. He clearly knew something had been up, and so did almost everyone probably. A tiny teenage chick who suddenly busts a grown man's eye socket would seem legit to no one but the most gullible Glowing One. But it didn't matter. Like Melissa had said, she'd been clean when she entered and nobody had seen any suspicious activity. So they'd probably just accepted that they'd never know.

"I just remembered what was at stake, is all."

"Well, you won, so your accusations are proven," Papa bellowed to the entire longhouse. "Let's meet in the back room and discuss your offer then."

Melissa nudged her in the side. "You've made an impression, _cheater_."

"I prefer to call it creative interpretation of the rules."

They sat in the back room of the longhouse again, this time without Karl. En wondered how he was doing and then realized she didn't care. The bastard had whaled on her in the beginning, even though he knew he'd win effortlessly. She hadn't killed him, which was good, she supposed, even though he was Legion scum.

"So, child, with those traitorous Legion shits out of the picture, what's your offer?"

"Well," En said, shifting in her seat, "It would involve putting the NCR in front of the block."

"I like the sound of that so far." His posture and eyes told her he was expecting the bad news to come right after.

And it did. "But not in the way you might have envisioned. We don't slaughter every man, woman and child, but instead, we make them ask for your help."

Papa's frown deepened.

"Whent he Legion crosses the Dam," En repeated, "they'll plow through everything in their way. The NCR won't be able to stop them this time. Not alone, at least."

"And?" Papa asked gruffly. "It's their just comeuppance."

Hadn't he listened the day before?

"I know, I know. But the NCR is also the only army that even remotely stands a chance of stopping them. If we leave them high and dry, they're pretty likely to get slaughtered – "

"Justly!"

"Errr, yes, yes... but once they're gone, the Legion will occupy the Dam, cut off all power to the western Mojave, and then go on a murdering, raping and enslaving spree. They won't spare anyone."

"So why don't you just crush them with that robot army you're supposed to command?"

"Because... well," En explained. "It's still under construction, and even then. It was designed as a security force, not an army. We can't beat back the Legion with just a bunch of tired and under-equipped soldiers and a handful of securitrons. We need everyone on this."

Melissa leaned forward and said, not without emotion, "The Khans will be wiped out, Papa."

A silence fell.

Regis broke it by saying, "I think the most important thing to every Khan should be the preservation of the chapter. All of us balk at the idea of joining forces with the NCR, but we're kinda between a rock and a hard place here. Don't forget that these Legion degenerates were planning to use us as cannon fodder and enslave the rest. And maybe this way we can make the NCR grovel at our feet." He looked at Papa Khan. "Don't you think?"

"And what would we get out of it?" Papa asked gruffly.

"Well," En explained, "the satisfaction of seeing those NCR big-heads begging for help, for starters. And depending on how the negotiations go, I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement – "

"Release of all Khan prisoners," Melissa took over, "Reparations and a public acknowledgment and apology for Bitter Springs, the dishonourable discharge of General Oliver _and _the First Recon, and a peace treaty between Khans and NCR, coupled with a good-sized bit of territory for you all to settle." Melissa was adamant. "Those will be our terms. They'll be agreed with to the last, or we'll tell the NCR that they'll be doing it without the Khans, _and_ without New Vegas."

Whoa, Melissa. Kinda speaking out of turn there. But En supposed Melissa knew what it took to get the Khans on their side. And honestly, the things Melissa had done _for_ her vastly outnumbered the things she'd done _to_ her, and she deserved this chance to help her former friends, even if it did mean making a few decisions which weren't completely hers to make. "Exactly," En agreed. "They're taking our terms, or they're getting trampled by the Legion. What we ask isn't unreasonable, and it'll certainly be much better peace terms than they'd get from the Legion."

"Regis?" Papa Khan asked his vice-president.

"... I think we should accept, Papa. What's done is done, and I think it'd be far more constructive to make the NCR crawl on their knees and confess what they've done, and then just stop killin' each other. I'd rather ensure our future _with_ the NCR still existing, than jeopardize it just for the opportunity to see them get butchered by the Legion, knowing we'll be next."

Papa inhaled and exhaled slowly. "This doesn't sit well with me, though. Helpin' out the god damned NCR."

"I understand, Papa," Melissa said. "I really do. But we've gotta think about what's important here. I grew up with you guys, I don't feel like seein' you all get killed. An' En and me don't feel like dyin' just yet either."

Papa leaned back, inhaling through his nose. The air made his moustache hairs twitch. "Very well. We'll have to explain this to our members though. Give us a day or two, then I'll send Regis as emissary to represent us in the negotiations. He pointed a finger at En. "You better not be double-crossin' us on this, missy."

En shook her head. "Promised. We're not the Legion, telling people lies and then betraying them afterward. We all need to unite on this, without bullshit or politics. All of us against the Legion."

"All of us, huh?" Regis asked. "Who else are you planning on inviting?"

"No one you hate... I hope," En said with a grin. "I've got some ideas, you'll see."


	78. Spider's String

**.**

**SEVENTY-EIGHT**

**New Vegas Clinic**

**July 20****th**

**20:56**

"You again?" Doctor Usanagi asked in surprise, drying her hands on a towel. En had no idea what hours this doctor worked, but she'd still been in-office when En had arrived, ten minutes ago. A gangbanger had come out, holding a little box (probably his daily fix or a substitute thereof), and scurried away, and now the doctor stood in the door opening, drying her hands and looking at En with a disapproving frown.

"I figured you'd miss me," En said, putting on her most dapper smile – which didn't amount to a lot, given the swollen, sutured eyebrow and the bloated, splinted nose.

Usanagi crossed her arms and cocked her head like a disapproving school teacher. She looked a lot like an Asian, less rebelliously-clad Miss Bishop. "If you want to pay me a visit, you can just walk in, you know. No need to ask someone to bust your chops."

"Oh believe me," En grinned. "I didn't ask for that beating."

Usanagi sighed. "Come in. Again."

Melissa limited herself to a cheerful, "Hi, doc!", grinning from ear to ear from her perch on the sofa, a magazine on her knees.

"Yes, hello. Come on, let's see what you've done to yourself _this_ time."

She stepped out of the doorway and let En trudge into her practice.

"Let me guess. Someone got tired of your smart mouth?"

"Actually, _no_," En replied, glad to be able to blow the doctor's theory to bits. "Someone thought it'd be fun to settle a trade dispute by kindly inviting me into the Great Khan pit of trials."

Usanagi made a sour face. "In that case, you look miraculously well."

"I won, actually," En said, beaming.

"I don't want to know. I really don't." She pointed at the patient bed. "Sit."

En did so, hopping onto the bed even though it sent stabs of pain through her. Usanagi first thoroughly inspected her face. "Mm. Nose doesn't seem broken. Some swelling but I've seen worse. Eyebrow's... pretty poorly sutured. Gonna redo those stitches. Hold on. Without sedation, will that work? I really need to conserve my sedatives."

"Uh... sure. Not like it can hurt even more."

"Mm."

"ADMINISTER MED-X?"

En just popped the earwig out of her ear. Not now, Stel.

Usanagi took a tiny pair of scissors and clipped the threads, pulling them out of the wound. It didn't _hurt_, as such, but it did produce an uncomfortable feeling, like burning and tickling at the same time.

"Now comes the worst part," Usanagi announced flatly, threading a curved needle and moving it toward En's eyebrow.

"Eegh," En let out as the needle punctured her skin, wincing as little as she could.

"Yep, that'll sting a bit," Usanagi muttered, still sounding completely casual. En hoped it was because she was concentrating on the stitching and not because she was p.o.'ed at En's constant insistence to get hurt. The tears sprang in her eyes every time the needle popped into her skin, but the pain was bearable.

"There. Don't know what kind of amateur did this, but he was even worse than old Doc Mitchell."

"Well, he_ did_ fix my skull."

"Poorly, but yes, point taken. Now, that nose."

She took the splint off, gently tearing away the tape, and re-splinted it. "I consider this shoddy work a personal affront," she imparted.

"She did her best, I s'pose," En merely said.

"Anything else?"

"Uh huh." She held up her bandaged hand.

"Ah. More incompetence. Those will need to be redressed," she said, unravelling the bandage. "Oh dear. And disinfected. Did you punch a kitchen knife to death?"

"Heh, sorta."

"Let's get rid of all this foulness first." She rinced the wound with water first. "This will feel funny." A few drips of hydrogen chloride turned the gashes into a frothing mess. The pain was strong enough to make her bite the knuckle of her good hand.

Unperturbed, Usanagi threaded another curved needle. "This'll be very nasty if we don't suture it, and you're scarred enough already. Not to mention the risk of infections."

"I'm not scarred," En joked. "I have character."

"Of course." As she dressed the wound, she asked, "So, have the symptoms in your genitals settled?"

The directness of the question made her do a double-take. "Uh... yeah, the medication helped."

"No more itching, no stinging?"

"Uh, no." En supposed being straight-to-the-point was perfectly normal for a doctor, but it was still pretty blunt. Then again, for her, this was probably the same as discussing the weather.

"Good. Glad it helped."

"It did. Thanks doctor. You know, for all this."

She offered an unexpectedly warm smile. "That's alright, child. Just be a bit more careful in the future. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll do my very best, promise." She meant it.

"Good. Well, this is all done. Anything else?"

En chuckled. "No, that's about all the damage I've done to myself today. But hey..."

"Mm?"

"Um... I really should pay you for this."

Usanagi flapped her hand. "We've gone over this. The Followers work for free."

"Then take some money to buy new supplies? Or a fresh coat of paint?"

"No, sweetheart. It's really kind, but it wouldn't feel right."

"Sure?"

"Yes. You've been hurt enough, no point in bleeding your wallet too."

"But I'm – "

"I said no. It's really kind, but my answer is final."

En sighed. "Fine. There's... one thing I need to say though."

"Yes?"

"You uh... might get a lot of patients in a few days."

Usanagi blinked, startled. "What? How so?"

"The Legion's about to try and cross the Dam. I'm uniting – "

"Wait, wait, _what?_" Usanagi interrupted, confused. "The Legion?"

"Yeah, they're... well, gathering near the Dam. They'll probably try to cross soon. Bound to be a lot of gunfire and explosions. And a lot of injuries... which isn't so awesome."

Doctor Usanagi sighed and sat down on her desk, looking defeated. "I was hoping this day wouldn't come but... I knew it'd happen some day. How do you know this?"

"I'm uh..." she said, still awkward with how it sounded, "the one in charge of New Vegas for the moment."

The doctor fixed her with a piercing glance for a moment, then said, agitated, "Get out. You don't joke about things like that."

"I'm serious, I – "

"I said _out_," she insisted.

"But – "

"Shame on you for worrying me like that. Get out, I mean it."

"_But I'm being serious_." En raised her voice to get her attention, then spoke normally again when it had had the desired effect. "I know it all sounds pretty funky, but after a lot of twists and turns, I actually, well... took over Mr. House's job. I'm in charge of the city."

Usanagi looked at her, with her head cocked and her eyes narrowed. "That's... not something you can just expect me to up and believe."

"You don't have to believe me. Just believe me when I say the Legion's coming, and... we need all the help we can get. Is there any way you can get the Followers to pitch in?"

Usanagi looked around her practice, completely confused. "I can't just... pack my bags and set up a field hospital at the Dam because some kid – no offense – wanders in and says so."

Right. This would require some additional prodding. "Okay. Look, uh... Would you believe me if I told you I'm wearing a super high tech stealth suit that can turn me invisible?"

"_No._"

"Well," En said, smiling broadly. "Get a load of this." She threw her jacket off, popped in the earwig and said, "Activate stealth mode," expecting her upper half to vanish.

Nothing happened.

"Stel? Activate stealth mode?"

What the Hell, this suit wasn't gonna let her down now, was it? Usanagi's eyebrow already slowly but surely went up.

"Stel, can you hear me? Activate stealth mode, please?"

Still no response. Maybe the suit was broken, or its batteries were dead.

"Look, honey, maybe you've been hit on the head a bit too hard – " Usanagi began, but En cut her off.

"No, no. This works. It has to. Stel? Can you please activate stealth mode?"

Silence.

Oh man, there went her convincing argument. "I, um... this suit normally works, but – "

"OH SO _NOW_ YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME?"

The voice in the earwig startled En so much Usanagi's eyebrows flicked up. "What? What are you talking about?"

"NOT NOW, STEL," the suit said in an angry sing-song. "I WAS ONLY TRYING TO DO GOOD, YOU KNOW."

"Oh!" En realized. "Oh, Stel, this is silly." Then quietly, she confided in Usanagi, "It's angry with me. One sec."

"I'm seriously starting to doubt your sanity, young lady."

"It's okay, you'll see. Uh, Stel?"

"WHAT?"

"Um... are you mad I didn't let you speak?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

God damn, this A.I. was advanced. "Okay, um... I was just busy, okay?"

"DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN BE RUDE TO ME. I HAVE FEELINGS TOO, YOU KNOW."

Uh, no you don't, you're a machine. "Okay, um... can you please activate your stealth function for a moment so I can convince the kind doctor I'm not crazy? She's starting to worry."

"NOT IF YOU DON'T APOLOGIZE. YOU SHUT ME UP TWICE, SAYING 'NOT NOW'. THAT'S NO WAY TO TREAT A FRIEND."

Did it truly consider itself her friend? This was insane. But still, better to keep it happy. "Okay, Stel, sorry. I was hurt and feeling miserable. It was just... a bad time, is all."

Usanagi looked like she was _really_ starting to worry.

"DO YOU LIKE ME?"

Again that question. It asked it a lot. That a piece of technology could be so insecure. "Yes, Stel. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Can you please activate your stealth function for a sec? We'll talk when there isn't a doctor in front of me thinking I'm a nut job, okay?"

"I GUESS."

"Thanks."

A brief silence. "ACTIVATING STEALTH FUNCTION."

This time En's upper body did vanish, and the doctor made the exact face En had hoped her to.

"See? You can turn it off again, Stel, thank you."

"DEACTIVATING STEALTH FIELD."

"That is... pretty amazing," Usanagi breathed. "But... it doesn't convince me that you're the next House."

"Look," En tried again. "Just believe me when I say the Legion's on the way. Can you _please_ ask the people at the Old Mormon Fort to join you so you can build a field hospital?"

Usanagi looked at the floor for a long time, leaning against her desk.

"Fine. When do you need us there?"

"As soon as possible."

Usanagi jabbed a finger at En. "But I'm warning you. If this turns out to be a joke, then – "

"No joke. Promised."

"Good, because my Hippocratic oath won't be safe anymore then. You'll get your field hospital, but you better be legit."

"I am. I'm so legit the cops show me _their_ ID."

"I'm trusting you on this, kid."

En nodded. "I know. Thank you. I won't forget it."

With a faint grin, the doctor said, "Go on, get outta here."

Another mission accomplished. If she kept this up, they'd get a massive army together. There were definitely two factions she still had to negotiate with – one that still owed her a big one, and another that had everything to gain by joining with her, especially after they heard what had been waiting for them before En had toppled good old Not-At-Home. When that was done, they could contact the NCR and present them with their terms. They'd be harsh (partly thanks to Melissa), but for the NCR it would be swallow or die. But even then, if it worked out the way it should, then everyone would gain. Well, except the Legion, but who cared about them.

"That took a while?" Melissa remarked when she came out.

"Had to negotiate a few things," En said. "But we're good now. _And_ we've got a field hospital for the Dam in the coming days. Wouldn't it be cool if I could, like, unite the entire Mojave against those Legion cock-knockers?"

She felt herself grin, and Melissa mirrored it. "Yep, you're well on the way."

Before going out, En took a quick look around, and when the receptionist wasn't watching, she set down a bag of a thousand caps in front of the door to the doctor's practice. Quietly, she said to Melissa, "that'll show 'em for not wanting my money."

They left the practice and started the walk back to New Vegas. "If you don't mind, Melissa, Imma quickly unruffle some feathers for a sec."

"Mm, what?"

"I uh, was kinda rude to Stel. Just gotta patch things up."

"Patch things up." Melissa repeated. "With a suit."

"Yeah, think what you want, but I just have to have a chat with it."

"_Sure_." Melissa clearly found the notion absurd. So did En, but it had to be done or the damn suit would refuse service.

"So hey, Stel?"

"YES?"

"This is uh... not something I'm good at, but..." Ugh, saying it was always so difficult. Made her feel like she admitted defeat. Always felt like the other person gloated inside. Even this suit. But come on, bite the bullet. "Stel, I'm sorry for shutting you up."

"TWICE."

Right, it was rubbing it in. How human it sounded. "Twice. I probably wouldn't have survived that pit without you", a bit of an overstatement, but okay, "and I shouldn't have taken that for granted. I'm really grateful for all you've done for me. I'm sorry I didn't have time to thank you."

Silence, then, "IT'S ALRIGHT. APOLOGY ACCEPTED."

"Cool, thanks." Annoying piece of machinery. "Put it behind us?"

"GLADLY."

"You're off your fuckin' rocker, talkin' with that creepy-ass suit," Melissa remarked.

"Eh," En lied, knowing the suit could hear, "I didn't appreciate it enough."

"Weirdo."

New Vegas quickly came into view, Freeside was quickly traversed and the Securitrons let her in without even asking for a pass. Good. Yes Man had already made arrangements.

It was smooth sailing until they reached the door of the Lucky 38.

"Oh, _there_ you are! Thank God I found you."

What was _he _doing here? "Arcade? What do you want?" He'd always struck her as of good faith, and he'd done a great job taking care of her after that cuntface of a Cass had decked her in the casino, but she didn't know what Garland had told him. So she had to be cautious.

"I need your help."

"Shoot."

"It's uh... Cass and Garland."

"Those two?" En grunted. "If they need help getting neutered or trying to fit into a wood chipper I'll be happy to oblige."

"Yeah, Garland said there'd been some... differences."

Melissa snorted. "Differences."

"Yeah," En said, "there have been differences alright. Like him trying to choke that chip out of me."

"Look," Arcade said, clearly not intent on pursuing it. "It doesn't matter what happened." When he saw En's frown deepen, he hastily clarified, "I mean, not to me, not right now. I mean, I'm asking for your help in this, regardless of what they've done."

"Not that I have any intention of helping, but what's the problem?" En asked, her hands in her sides.

"They... Well, they just need help."

"So hire mercenaries," En said with a shrug. "Don't bother me with that stuff. I'm grateful for what you've done for me, I really am, but I owe those two _nothing_."

"Really? You don't even owe Garland your life?"

"No," she parried. "Just my dignity. And even if I did owe him my life, he already collected by trying to throttle me."

"Fine. How 'bout this then? I've got connections, and I know about the Legion about to cross the Dam. I know you're trying to assemble some sort of defense against them. And I can talk to some people who might just be capable of turning the tide."

Hm, this might be interesting. _Might_. "Go on?"

* * *

><p>"Have we forgotten to salute, decurio?"<p>

"No, centurio. No excuse, centurio. Ave, Caesar."

"Yes, yes, ave, ave... So, who are those two prisoners waiting outside?"

"We caught them trying to hide from our patrol, great Caesar. There was a third, wearing a doctor's coat, but he got away."

"You seem to have your ears clogged, decurio. Non recognosco rogare ubi reperibatis?"

"O-of course... These two are refugees from New Vegas, fleeing the coup d'état that has reportedly taken place there."

"Not _reportedly_, decurio."

"I... didn't know the rumours were confirmed, centurio?"

"Ita sunt. So why bring them to me?"

"Great Caesar – "

"Et desite salutare, vacerra! Are you going to repeat that stupid salute every time you speak?"

"I... your forgiveness, great Caesar. I brought them to you because they know things about the coup which might interest us. They bought their lives with that promise."

"You presume to know what interests great Caesar, decurio?"

"N-no centurio, I wouldn't dare. But... didn't great Caesar himself say that he wanted to be informed immediately if there was any lead on... well, the platinum chip?"

"Quid dixis?"

"Th-the platinum chip, great Caesar. These two claim to be able to deliver it to you."

"I see... You've done well, decurio. Centurio, issue this man a scrip for a hundred denarii."

"At once, great Caesar."

"Consumite sapienter, decurio. Now get out."

"Y-yes great Caesar. Ave."

"Yes, yes. Out."

"Adiuro, Caesar, stultior fiunt cotidie."

"Indeed, centurio. Have those two wasteland manzeres brought in."

"Aye, Caesar."

"So, then. Let's not waste time with pleasantries. You bought your lives promising information. You are before Caesar now, so speak or I will collect your lives yet."

"It's about the platinum chip."

"I gathered that already, frutex. Be specific or my centurion will become specific with your neck. Do you have it?"

"No, not as such."

"Then what use are you to me?"

"We... we know where it is."

"Garland. Don't. We can't – "

"Quiet Cass, this is about survival."

"So you know where it is. That's it?"

"Yes and... we know exactly who has it."

"An acquaintance of yours, I take it?"

"Yes."

"If you keep making me drag it out piece by piece, I will start dragging some pieces out of you."

"It's... someone we know well. And since there's been a change of management in New Vegas, we're thinking she's used it up already."

"Then there's no point wasting my time with you, is there? Centurion – "

"_Wait..._ Wait. I know what the chip does and how it works. And I know how to make it work for you."

"You had best not be telling me fairy tales, you damn wasteland mongrel."

"I swear it's the truth. And... I can lead you to her."

"Garland, _no_. They'll – "

"Cass. Shut. _Up_. Either we do this or we hang from the gallows by nightfall."

"Not the gallows, exactly, but yes, you seem to have the hanging part more or less correct."

"I want... I want one promise from you though... if we do this."

"A woman wanting promises. Very well, _woman_, indulge me. What would you ask if I were even remotely inclined to consider your request?"

"That... that you let us go free – "

"I believe that was your initial request, _woman_."

"And... and... when you have what you need, you don't hurt the person who owns the chip now. You let all three of us go free."

"Cass. Cass, be quiet. _I have a plan._"

"_I don't care, I don't like her either, but we can't hand her over to these degenerates."_

"_We won't have to, I told you I have a pl – "_

"If you don't cease this insulting and highly suspicious whispering right now, you can listen to _me_ whisper sweet nothings in your ear while my carnifex flays the skin from your bones."

"Look. The bottom line is, you don't even need to get a hold of her. I know what to do, and it doesn't involve bloodshed."

"You say that as if it's a relevant criterion."

"It is, for us. I'll help you subvert the chip and take control of New Vegas. All we want is our freedom and... well, something for our trouble."

"I have a better idea. You've told me nothing new. I know who owns the chip, and I'm sure she'll be able to tell me how I can get control of the city for myself. In fact, I think she'll be _overjoyed_ to tell me after some quality time with me and those hard, steep stairs leading to my camp. I think it'd be far easier to just lure that mewling whelp over here."

"What? But – "

"Tell me... would she come save you if you're in need?"

"Hah. Not a chance. We weren't exactly best friends when we left. That's not gonna work, I'm afraid."

"Oh, she will. If the need is big enough. Centurio?"


	79. Sacrificial

**.**

**SEVENTY-NINE**

**The Wastes**

**July 21****st**

**03:12**

"Craig, any news?"

And there was the creepy sniper dude. Arcade had explained them the whole situation. Apparently Garland, Cass and he had run into a Legion patrol on the way South. Arcade had managed to get away by running until his legs felt like they'd fall out from under him, dodging potshots and the occasional javelin until he'd been sure he was safe. He'd sneaked back, and watched from a distance as Cass and Garland were rounded up and taken away.

First thing he'd done was find Boone, the psycho sniper. He hadn't been able to get a hold of Veronica, the group being fragmented after Garland had told them they needed to get out of Vegas as soon as possible. Arcade had stayed with them for a bit longer, but the others had gone their own way. Boone was thankfully still in Freeside, in the middle of exposing a fake bodyguarding con when Arcade had found him. But no trace of Roni, and all Boone had to say was that she'd probably gone back to the Brotherhood. His shrug as he'd said it told Arcade enough of the thoroughness with which Boone had obtained this information.

So Arcade needed allies, and who else to contact but En? The Followers weren't exactly the kind of people you needed – or could mobilize – for a rescue mission. He'd known En would not be very inclined to help, since Garland had already told them the story of how he'd asked for the chip and En had told him to fuck off, even when Garland had told her his life depended on it, the kid had proven so mercenary that she didn't even want to help.

The kid's side of the story was different entirely, and Arcade didn't know what to believe now. The bruises looked real enough, and the kid seemed honest enough, as did her Amazonian companion. It'd have to be cleared up after they'd freed Garland and Cass. If they'd still get a chance. It'd depend on what Craig was about to say.

"Took 'em to Cottonwood Cove and across the river. Thought we wouldn't see 'em again, but I stuck around for an hour or two, and they brought them back. Garland, Cass, and seven Legionaries. Followed 'em at a distance. They stopped one klik to the east. Cut down some old telephone poles." They were in a large pit, or crater now, peering over the side, down into a natural depression, where the Legionaries had stopped with their prisoners.

"So why didn't you do anything?" En asked. "Aren't you supposed to be like, this badass sniper?"

"Not _supposed to be_, kid," the creepy dude replied, still unperturbed. "But I've only got so much ammo, and unless the hostages are in danger, I don't engage."

"It'd take more time to kill them all than it'd take them to kill their prisoners," Melissa added to the explanation. "Oh. Right."

"And since I have a pretty good idea of what they'll be using those telephone poles for, we might be able to free them without risk."

"How's that?" En asked.

"I think I know what Craig means," Arcade answered. "I have no idea why they're bringing them back inland to do it, but it's pretty obvious they're planning on..."

"... Crucifyin' them," Melissa completed.

En felt herself make a face. "They're both bitchfaces, but we can't let that happen, I guess."

"I see you didn't remember to bring some securitrons?" the sniper remarked. "We could have used the extra meat shields in case of problems."

"I didn't... didn't think of it, I guess. Plus, they're all needed in New Vegas. We're quite a few bots short after all the vandalism, and the new ones aren't ready yet. If we leave the city short on bots, the NCR's already said they'd take over."

"Yep, there they go," Arcade said, peering through Boone's binoculars. "They're lashing the crosses together now. Thank heavens you stayed on them, Craig."

"Mm."

"I don't assume they'll actually leave men to stand watch?" Melissa asked. "Death by crucifixion takin' days, an' all?"

"They won't," Boone said. "They'll just crucify them and leave. They know no one dares take people down from crosses."

"They know they have a chance of ending up on one themselves," Arcade said bitterly. "Well, we're takin' these two down, no matter what."

"Can we get a few hours of sleep first though?" En asked, yawning. It was almost four in the morning and she _really_ needed her bed.

"We can sleep later." Melissa held out her hand and Arcade gave her the binoculars. "I see 'em. They look pretty beat-up. Tough to see in the dark tho'."

"Yeah, I was afraid they'd be injured. But intervening might have killed them, and better injured than dead, right?"

"S'pose. Looks like all they got for now was a good old beatin'. No signs of further torture."

"Seems like you got a good old beating too?" Arcade asked En. "Need me to take a look at it?"

"No, thanks, we already passed by doctor Usanagi."

"Oh," Arcade said, his eyes lighting up, "No, then you _definitely _don't need me to look at it. What happened? Big mouth got you in trouble again?"

"Haha, why does everyone ask that? Nah, some Legionary dude challenged me to a duel in the trialpit when we were trying to get the Great Khans to help us."

"Get the Great Khans to help you?" the sniper scoffed. "Good luck with _that_."

"Actually," En pointed out, "they did sign up to help."

"Even though it'd mean joining forces with a band of childkillers like the NCR," Melissa added, her upper lip curling back.

The sniper dude remained perfectly calm. "That's why I said it wouldn't be easy."

"Guys, stop arguing," Arcade scolded. "Looks like they're putting them up. Binoculars?"

Still glaring at the sniper, who didn't look like he gave a shit, Melissa gave the binoculars to Arcade.

"Mm. Looks like they're using rope and not nails. That's a relief." A short pause. Cross is going up now. They must be terrified."

"Nah," En said, trying to sound sure of herself. "They know we're coming to rescue them. He's gonna have some explaining to do though." She added a joke for confidence. "He'll probably wish he'd stayed on the cross when I'm done calling him names."

"Got a few things to say to that fuckin' bully too," Melissa muttered.

"Save it for later," Arcade simply said. "Let's get 'em down from those crosses first. Wait 'til the Legion leaves, then we just take them down. Easy."

"You'll hold up to your end of the bargain, right?" Melissa asked him.

He nodded. "Already done. They're prepping as we speak."

"Good, good," En said. "I'm curious what you're planning."

"It's gonna be big, trust me," Arcade merely said, grinning.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone love to keep everyone in suspense all the time?"

"They're getting ready to leave," Arcade announced. "Give it a few more minutes and we can get down there."

They gave it a few more minutes, waiting in silence in their little natural foxhole.

En's eyes had fallen closed and some time had apparently passed when Arcade called everyone to attention. "It's time. Legion's been gone for over half an hour now. They'll be well out of sight."

"Right," Melissa said, looking grim. "Let's take 'em down even though one of 'em doesn't really deserve it."

En just wiped the sand from her eyes.

"Worry about that later. Please."

"Don't worry," En said, yawning. "We'll help 'em. But they better crawl on their knees when this is done."

"Talking won't take them down from that cross," the sniper pointed out. "Get down there."

"Uh, buddy," En made clear, "you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That makes sense," the guy said, still icy calm. "Best place for a sniper is with his nose on the target area."

"He's right," Arcade said. "Best if he covers us in case things do go wrong."

"An' do things ever go right on jobs like these?" Melissa grunted.

"Exactly. Let's get down there. Stay quiet."

"Hey but, hey but," En said, "Wouldn't it be tons easier if I just went alone and used the stealth suit?"

"I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING."

"Yeah, an' who's gonna take those two full grown adults down from that cross?" Melissa asked, amused. "I know you think you're the Hulk after you've given that emissary a whoopin', but it'll take more 'n one person to take those two down."

"Mm. Yeah. Good point. And I'd never accessorise green skin with purple pyjama pants anyway."

"So the three of us are going," Arcade said with a nod.

"Let's move," Melissa said, getting out of the foxhole and creeping towards the crucifixion area. The single cross stood up ominously, lit by a sliver of moon.

"They crucified 'em back-to-back," Melissa whispered.

"Count on them to spare themselves the effort of making two separate crosses," Arcade whispered back.

"Shh," En only had to contribute.

They crept closer, still on their guard even though the Legionaries had left almost an hour ago.

Closer and close they came, the sand soundlessly shifting under their boots. Melissa had her P90 ready in case of trouble, and En only had her side-arm with her. No point lugging a heavy rifle around for this.

The cross was about a hundred metres away now. The bodies on them hung limp, but both Arcade and Melissa had verified that they'd still been alive when the cross had gone up.

"Boone," Arcade said in his radio. "We're almost there. Stay on guard."

The sniper didn't even reply.

"Sure they're not dead?" En asked Melissa. Her belly began to cramp. Something was wrong here.

"Couldn't be. Not after half an hour of crucifixion. I saw 'em move when the cross went up. Was dark, but they looked alive."

"Okay. Maybe they just fell asleep."

"Yeah, cause sleepin's the first thing I'd do when I'm on a cross, in excruciatin' pain," Melissa said, the moonlight reflecting on the teeth she bared when grinning.

Arcade was a bit further ahead, ridiculously visible in his doctor's coat, and he abruptly halted.

"Wot?" Melissa asked, stopping also.

"Th... the crosses. Look."

They looked up and saw a black substance sticking to them, in big rivulets.

"Bl... blood?" En asked.

"I hope not," Arcade breathed. "I hope to fucking Hell not."

"Light," Melissa ordered. "Only way we'll be sure."

After a brief moment's hesitation, En made her pip-boy glow in an amber light.

Immediately the radio crackled, "You know, I'm glad you went through all that trouble to stay concealed just to make yourselves light up like three radioactive chickens."

No one heard Boone. They didn't hear anything, their gazes fixed on the two bodies on the cross.

They were Cass and Garland alright. And the black substance now reflected crimson. They'd been lashed to the cross, back-to back, naked from the waist up. But something was wrong with them. Cass hung completely motionless, while Garland's head moved slightly when the pip-boy lit up.

Between their bodies and the crosses were strange things. Bags the size of aubergines and roughly the same colour hung from their backs. They were lined with pale sticks, set into their backs at angles that made them look like small wings.

"Oh God..." Arcade breathed.

En couldn't place what she was seeing. What the Hell was this? What had they done to them?

"Fuckin' shit," Melissa gasped next to her.

"I... what... I don't..." En could only say, not grasping what it was her eyes saw. It's as if her mind was unable to register it and could only tell her that this was one of the most gruesome things they'd ever seen.

"Aquila sanguinis," Arcade breathed beside her. He took his radio, and his hands trembling, he whispered, "Boone, they... they..."

"Shh, he's tryin' to speak," Melissa said. She looked just as pale as Arcade.

They looked up at Garland, his eyes barely open. His lips moved faintly. "St... st..."

"What, Garland?" Arcade asked, his voice trembling.

"St..." it looked like he was unable to draw breath, the bags hanging from his back pulsating every time he tried. Oh God what was this fucking horror? "Stooh... hool. Puh... pidg... pi... pidge... eons... G... go..."

Stool pigeons? What?

It clicked into place at the same time for all three of them.

Melissa's eyes went wide and found En's. "Oh shit. They knew we were comin'."

"Oh fuck," En heard herself yell. "We've gotta get outta here."

Her legs refused service, and all she could do was slowly stumble backwards, her eyes still on the cross.

The legionaries in hiding sprang out of concealment and descended on them, roaring like madmen.

The report of Boone's rifle didn't break En's paralysis as the shot lifted one of the legionaries off his feet, his torso punched through.

"Come on!" Melissa shouted. Her hand grabbing En's shoulder _did_ take her out of her trance, and she began running.

Another shot, but En didn't look back to see if one of their pursuers had been hit. There were at least ten. At least. She ran, as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her face, her head, and her hand. She heard Melissa pant next to her, but there was no sound of Arcade breathing.

She risked a look back and saw a brief flash of a white doctor's coat kept down by three soldiers. Shit, they got him.

"Muh... Melissa, they... they..." she breathed.

"I know," Melissa snapped back. "No time, run!"

Another shot from Boone's rifle.

En tried to pull her side-arm from her holster and shoot a brief look back at the same time, while running, and it was too much. Her foot got caught behind a fallen mailbox, and her body flew forward, smacking into the sand, her pistol bounding away. She screamed in pain as her injured hand got crumpled up underneath her weight.

"ADMINISTERING MED-X."

"God dammit, _get_ _up_!" She felt Melissa's hands grabbing her under her arms. "_Get up_!"

Another shot rang out. At the same time, a javelin buried itself into the sand next to her, and then another, a ways further.

"Come on, _on your feet_," Melissa shrieked, yanking her up. Melissa's P90, dangling from its shoulder strap, thunked her in the head, but she kicked her feet regardless, and they found purchase.

"Come _on_."

Boone fired again, and En briefly saw a legionary being knocked down, his feet kicking the air.

"Shit," she heard Melissa curse next to her, and the next moment, the P90 let rip, emptying its clip in a deafening cascade of whip cracks, mowing down the legionaries approaching them until only two remained.

She tried to run, but the sand gave way under her boots, and she could manage no more than a stumbling crouch. Melissa's fingers let go of the P90, and they hooked around her leather jacket and pulled, so hard she was yanked upward and fell right into Melissa's arms. "Come on!"

There was another shot, whizzing past En's head and impacting the closest legionary with a wet _thud_, a bloody hole in his torso as he collapsed.

There was only one legionary, and he lifted his javelin, a triumphant grin on his face.

En felt herself get whirled around, and the next moment, a shock went through her.

Melissa's weight came down on her, suddenly no longer able to support itself, and she fell backwards, coming down on her back with Melissa's weight on top of her, smashing the air from her lungs.

"Melissa! _Melissa!_"

No more shots came from Boone.

The legionary slowly approached, his machete drawn.

En tried all she could to get Melissa off her, but she weighed too much. She struggled and kicked, but Melissa was too heavy. Oh God what had happened to her?

"Caesar wants you alive, but he never said you had to be uninjured. You can live for a long time, and tell a lot of stories with a spear through your guts." He looked past her and said, "Too bad I won't have the time for more fun. But there's always later."

She saw Boone, upside down, running toward her, but he was still several hundred metres away. He'd never be in time to stop this bastard from grabbing her and taking her hostage. En looked around frantically, hoping for something, _anything_ to save her. Her eyes went from side to side, but there was nothing that could help her.

Melissa's eyelids briefly fluttered. "Hang on Melissa!" Her voice wailed with effort and panic.

Again En's eyes looked for anything that could help.

The clouds overhead broke, and the grip of her pistol lit up in the moonlight. It had bounced away, but not too far.

She clawed at it, trying furiously to get herself out from under Melissa, but her muscles screamed in pain, to no effect.

"ADMINISTERING UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE."

It went like it had with Karl. A blast of strength rushed through her, and almost effortlessly, she freed herself from Melissa's weight, lunging for her weapon. Through a haze of red, she saw her fingers close around the grip of the gun, then her arms pulled it up, and her finger pumped the trigger over and over and over.

She heard the bangs, far away, as the bullets impacted the legionary standing over her, blood bursting from the holes they tore in his legs, his chest, his abdomen, and his groin. The legionary staggered back, still on his feet despite the damage she did, but her finger kept pulling the trigger, over and over, emptying the entire clip in the legionary's body, every shot tearing him apart even further. The last shot she fired, the last bullet in the weapon's magazine, tore into the animal's lower jaw, exiting through the roof of his mouth and blowing skull and brain fragments out as it went, and he finally fell over.

The haze of red faded and her burst of strength with it, her senses coming back, along with pain all over her body.

"Melissa! _Melissa_!" She scooted across the ground, back to her fallen friend.

Melissa lay on her side, and En felt herself panic when she saw the spear haft sticking out her back. Oh God the javelin had gone through her, the tip sticking out between her ribs, slightly to the side of her sternum, through a bloody hole in her t-shirt.

"They g... got you too," Melissa mumbled with a faint grin. "Ruined... your jacket."

"Melissa, Melissa, hold on! Hold on, I'm gonna – "

"You're gonna what? Thing's g... gone through me. Sh... shut up an'... listen."

En shut up, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

"I re... repaid you now, d... didn't I?"

Boone bolted right past her, but she didn't even notice.

"Melissa," she said through her tears, "You've repaid me a thousand times over already. Don't give up, Boone's getting Arcade and we'll – "

"I can't... feel my legs... or below... jav... elin."

Had it gone through her spine? Oh shit oh shit, Melissa! "Try not to talk, we're – "

"Like... like Hell I'm not talkin'," Melissa said as fiercely as she could. Her breathing was picking up speed and her bronze skin had paled to a sickly beige. "Think I'll.. see that... hottiecakes on the b... back of your book?"

En tried to fight back the tears as much as she could. "Yeah, and her husband probably."

"S'alright... I'm always... up f... for a threesome."

That made En laugh through her tears. Footsteps ran toward them, but she didn't hear.

"Hey reme... mber when I asked... if when you died... you had one l... last image in your head?" A thin line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth into the sand.

"You're not dying, Melissa. I'm _ordering_ you not to die!"

Arcade and Boone had made it to them, and Arcade sat kneeling down beside En. "My God, Melissa," he breathed. "I... there's nothing I can do."

"There has to be _something_?" En shouted.

Arcade only shook his head. "There isn't. It went through, punctured a lung. She's going into shock, means there's blood running into her lungs, massive haemorrhage. Even with a clinic full of equipment I wouldn't be able to stop that. I'm sorry, kid. Just... stay with her, that's all you can do." He rose, and took a few steps away.

"See?" Melissa croaked with a faint grin. "Told ya... it was over." When she breathed it made a sound like a child trying to drink the last of his cola through a straw.

"Melissa..."

"Just... stay here." Her hand, trembling and pale, reached out to En's. It was icy cold. "I think... I decided... on an image." Her eyes slowly fell closed. The thin line of blood had become a wide rivulet and she breathed in laboured, wet gasps, her breath slowing again. En knew full well what that meant.

"What, Melissa?"

"At the... lake." Melissa said faintly. "You with... rebreather... under your arm... your ridiculously borin'... sports bikini. Sun ref... lecting on the dr... droplets on your t... anned shoulders. Grinnin' from... ear to ear..." She coughed without much strength, spitting up more blood. "Had almost... almost taken... that away from... you." She was so quiet her voice was almost inaudible. "You looked s... so... hap... py..."

It was as if she fell asleep.

**END OF**

**PART THREE**


	80. Alone

**.**

**EIGHTY**

**The Wastes**

**July 21****st**

**07:11**

**PART FOUR**

"This is all your fault!" En shouted, launching herself at Arcade and grabbing him by the collar. The man didn't resist, and En shook him back and forth, mad with grief and anger. "This is all because of you!"

"En, please, calm down."

"Melissa is dead _because of you_!"

"Please, En – "

"And because of that motherfucker Garland! It's all because of you!"

"En, _calm down_."

"_I can't calm down god dammit_," En shrieked hysterically. "_I can't fucking calm down!_" She knew she was completely out of control, but there was no way to stop it.

"ADMINISTERING TRANQUILLIZER."

A feeling of relief and sedation slowly spread through En's body and mind, and slowly, her muscles followed suit, her fingers opening the claws they'd made around the collar of Arcade's lab coat. It was his fault, it was all his fault, but right now, that didn't matter. The tranquillizer told her so. A feeling of calmness washed over her and she let the man go.

"En," she heard him say, all her grief still very much present but somehow pushed to the background, just as intense but somehow more tolerable. "En, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"I know you didn't," she said, glaring. "But that doesn't change what happened. They knew we were there all along. They must have seen Boone following them or whatever, but they knew."

"Yeah, I think – "

"I _know_. I don't know what Garland told them, but they were waiting for us. They wanted to draw us in. And now Melissa..." fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She resisted the urge to look at her fallen friend, still on her side with the spear through her back.

"I know. I'm sorry, En. I'm so terribly sorry."

"Tell her that."

Boone had trudged over to the cross and was busy gathering firewood to build a small pyre underneath it.

"Garland... Garland always said he never wanted to be buried," Arcade said, following En's gaze. "Didn't want to end up in the ground in case people might still be conscious when they're dead."

"Do whatever you want, I don't care," En merely said. "I've got someone else to take care of."

"I'll... help you dig, if you want."

"_Dig_?" En spat. "I'm not gonna just dig a hole in the middle of the Wastes and throw her in like she was a fucking _dog_!"

"No, no," Arcade said hastily, aware of his bad move. "No, of course not."

"We're taking her back to Vegas, burying her where we buried Meyers."

"Sure, if you want. We can make a stretcher or something."

"Yeah. Let's do that."

"The uh... the spear," Arcade said. "Maybe I should..."

"No," was all En had to say, then she stepped over to Melissa's body and yanked the javelin out, throwing it hard into the sand. "She doesn't feel it anymore."

"You're uh... you're injured too." He pointed at her abdomen.

En looked down and saw a hole in her jacket, ringed with blood. She hadn't even felt it until Arcade had pointed it out. Now it began pulsating in uncomfortable, but ignorable pain situated just above her diaphragm, on the left-hand side. Maybe it was the Med-X still numbing her somewhat, but she doubted the wound was serious. The javelin had gone through Melissa and through En's jacket before being stopped by her rib. Oh, Melissa...

"It's not serious."

"Let me take a look, just in case, okay?"

She was about to yell at him that he'd done enough already, but the tranquillizer was still influencing her somewhat, so she managed to restrict herself to glaring and keeping silent, zipping open her jacket, pulling Stel's velcro fastening loose and lifting up her t-shirt to expose the injury, a straight red split in her skin at the lowest end of her rib cage.

"It... doesn't seem so bad," Arcade muttered, observing it carefully. "Your rib seems to have taken most of the force. The cut itself is only skin deep. I'll suture it just in case."

"Great. More stitches. Get on with it while the Med-X still works."

"Uh... yes." He didn't seem too inclined to respond to En's tone. So much the better. He picked up his backpack and took out his medical kit, first disinfecting and then diligently sowing up the wound while En simply looked away and waited for it to be over.

"Right. Should do it. Hope it didn't hurt too much."

"I'm sure it's nothing compared to what Melissa felt."

"I'm... really sorry, En. Is there... anything I can do?"

"Yes," En said fiercely. "There is. You can hold up your end of the bargain, whatever the fuck it was, it must have been big if Melissa had to die for it, and then go back to the other apocalypse people and help them to set up the field hospital at Hoover Dam. You'll have to convince a few since I didn't give Usanagi much to work with."

He only nodded. "Alright. I'll help you build a stretcher first. I'll... carry her. Least I can do."

"No. I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"I said I'll do it," she snapped. When she saw Arcade wince, she added, "Melissa once pulled a hospital bed with an auto-doc on top of it, all the way from NCRCF to Novac, to help Sunny when her legs were injured. Didn't give a peep. I owe it to her to do the same."

"I understand. Let's... gather some wood."

Weeping, she started to tear down an old wooden fence to use as stretcher wood.

Boone stood watching the burning cross for a while, then came back, silently joining in the wood-gathering. En had no idea if he actually knew what it was for.

The whole process of building a stretcher took the better part of an hour, the whole operation speeding up considerably when Boone silently lashed the wood together with the string he carried in his backpack. The speed and methodical determination he worked with showed he'd apparently done it a few times before.

She had to remember she wasn't the only one who'd lost people. This sniper dude had probably buried a lot of friends already, which was probably what had made him so creepy and quiet in the first place, and Arcade himself had just lost two of his friends too. Someone En had disliked and pitied, and a manipulative psychopath, true, but still people he'd cared about, and what En thought of them didn't make his feelings any less valid. This was just a horrible day for everyone involved.

Especially Melissa. God, she was really gone.

Arcade had covered her face with his lab coat, and now she was just a pair of goth boots, two leather-clad legs, and a mass of white fabric with a big red stain.

When the stretcher was done, Boone helped En lift the body on it and asked, "Face, covered or not?"

He asked it like it was the most normal question in the world.

"Uh... leave it uncovered. I... don't want her to look like a corpse."

"Sure."

It was day already, and the trek back to the Lucky 38 was done in complete and utter silence, En sweating buckets as she dragged Melissa's body through the sand. Both Arcade and Boone had offered to help a few times, but with En giving them an abrupt "No!" every time, they'd eventually stopped. Arcade had offered a bottle of water a few times, which En had been too thirsty to resist, but apart from that, they'd simply let her be.

"You better come to her funeral," was the last thing En said before they parted ways, at the chapel they'd buried Meyers. "It's tonight."

"Of course," Arcade had said. The sniper hadn't replied, but he better fucking be there.

"Aw, shucks," the priest had said, still in his Elvis outfit, when En had dragged the stretcher in. "I really liked her. What happened?"

En explained the situation with as few words as possible, dead tired, dehydrated and emotionally wrecked. The Elvis-priest had nodded and said he'd make sure it was a nice service.

En had walked back to the Lucky 38, feeling empty inside.

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

"No, Stel. I need some time alone now."

"ALONE?"

"Yes. Alone. Don't take it personally, but I need to sleep and have some time alone with my thoughts."

"YOU'LL... YOU'LL PUT ME BACK ON AGAIN, WON'T YOU?"

"Yeah yeah. Don't worry."

"PROMISE?"

"Yeah, promised. Can you leave me be, now?"

"OF COURSE. I'M HERE IF YOU NEED ME."

"Uh... thanks."

She went inside the 38, rode the elevator up, and fell straight into bed. She hoped she'd be able to sleep.


	81. Awakening

**.**

**EIGHTY-ONE**

**?**

En's eyes blinked open in the darkness.

She was standing in complete nothingness, in her underwear, a cold wind gently brushing her legs.

There was a door, a single wooden door set in the blackness.

She looked behind her, but saw nothing but black. The door was the only thing there was.

She carefully took a few steps forward, not even feeling any ground beneath her bare feet. Wherever this was, it was not a good place. The darkness looked infinite, pure nothingness extending even farther than she could imagine.

It felt like she could fall off at any moment, and plunge down into the infinite blackness.

A sense of urgency overcame her. The door, she had to go for the door.

Her fingers closed around the door handle. Odd. She didn't remember closing the distance.

What the fuck was going on here? This place felt unreal, like a dimension that was... different, somehow.

Taking an airless breath, she pushed down the old-fashioned brass door handle and opened the door.

It was a bathroom. An old bathroom set with white tiles, some cracked or chipped. There was a bathtub set against the side wall, empty except for the smear of dirt in the middle, from where the water had flowed out but hadn't been able to take everything into the drain with it.

Everything was a stark white, illuminated by TL-lights overhead. Against the wall perpendicular to the bath-wall stood a dirty ceramic toilet bowl, and a sink was set opposite the bath, with a medicine cabinet above it, with a mirror door, a small crack running through it.

Something told En not to look in that mirror.

There was someone here. Sitting on the pale green tiles, under the sink, hugging her knees and her head down, was a female figure, dressed like her, in night undies, hers a dark gray and stained all over with dirt, grime, sweat and other indeterminable things.

"Uh... hello?" En heard herself say. She sounded like her voice came from a tin can.

There was no response, and the girl just sat there. En couldn't see her face, just a mop of shoulder-length, tousled black hair.

"He... hello?" she tried again.

Abruptly, the face went up. It was a young woman in her early twenties, looking dead tired, dark rings around her terrified steel-blue eyes. "Who are you?" the woman asked, her voice hasty and trembling with fear.

"Wait," En heard herself say. "... I _know_ you..."

"You're... you're not supposed to be here," the woman said. The face was so familiar, and yet En couldn't remember who this was. It was as if the memory dangled in front of her, but every time she reached for it, it flitted out of her reach. "You need to leave," she said, her voice not hostile, but urgent to the point of panic. "Please, just... get out, you shouldn't be here."

"Where is this?"

"It's not safe here. Not for you. And it's not safe for me that you're here either. Please, please just go." She still sat there, hugging her knees and looking up at En, with a face that would have been breathtakingly gorgeous if not for the pale complexion, matted with cold sweat, and the black rings around the eyes.

"I can't go, out there is..."

"Nothing, I know. You can't leave through the door. But you need to _go_. This was the only safe place I had, the only place I could hide, and now you're here – "

"Safe place? Safe from what?"

Her eyes briefly flicked to the door. "From _them_." She almost whispered the word, in terrified secrecy.

"Who? Who are they?"

"They don't like it when people like you come here. People who..." she searched for the words, "who don't belong."

Whatever was going on here, this girl was terrified, and it was contagious. Where before she only experienced a sense of confusion and strangeness, now fear began to take hold of En too. She wasn't in the world she knew anymore. She was far away. Although it wasn't a question of distance. She was infinitely far away, in another sense. "You... you have to start making sense. Please. What do you mean, 'don't belong'?"

"I... don't know. Something's... not right with you, I can't..." She paused, then looked up again with some sort of realisation dawning in her cold blue eyes. "Wait. You're... you're alive, aren't you?"

"Alive? I... of course I'm alive."

"That... that means you're asleep. You... you fell asleep and you got lost and... and you ended up here." The terror in her eyes grew even more. "Oh no. No, you have to go. Please, you have to go. They'll find me now that you're here."

"Why? What will they do? Will they hurt you?"

"_Hurt_?" the woman didn't seem to understand the word. "They don't _hurt_. They... they do far worse things. Things you can't imagine, not until you're... like me."

"Like you?"

"I got lost. I followed the wrong voices. They tricked me. They were... angry and they tricked me when I was supposed to be going... elsewhere. I was just like you. Long ago."

"Long ago? How long have you been here?"

She shook her head, looking at the white tiles on the wall behind En. "I don't... know. Years? Centuries? Forever? I don't... know."

The answer came clear as day to En, and she didn't know why. "It's been twenty years." She brushed the lock of hair away from her face, that damn lock that always came loose from her ponytail.

"Twenty y..." she breathed. "Twenty... years. Only twenty years. Still have... forever to go."

"Can you get up?" En asked. She couldn't just keep sitting there, on the cold tiles, under the sink, hugging her knees. En held out her hand. "Come on, I won't hurt you."

"Don't touch me," she hissed, skittishly. "If you touch me I'll never be able to hide again. Just... _go_!"

"How? How do I go?"

"I don't... remember," the woman said, despairing.

"You said you were just like me once? How? What did you mean?"

"I was... I was just like you. I don't... remember what I meant. I came to this... this _place_ too, once. They... they found me. They... they hate it when you come to their world. So they take revenge when... when you..."

"When you what?"

"When you can be misled. When you can be caught... for good. They make you... miss the train. The... boat. The light, I don't know. Whatever it is that takes you where you're supposed to go. And once you miss it, you can't... you can never..."

There was a knock on the door.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no," the girl peeped, hugging her legs even tighter. "It's them. It's them it's them it's them. They know you're here. They're looking for you."

The fear began taking over En too, whatever was on the other side of that door, it was something she couldn't even imagine, something that could do unimaginable things to her. Not hurt her, like the other woman had said, but far, far worse. "Okay, I'll go. I'll go. Tell me how."

"You need to... do something."

"What?"

"I can't remember!" the woman shouted, tears forming in her panicked eyes. "They're looking for me. They'll find me if you stay here. Go! Get out! Please!"

"How? I don't know how!"

"I don't know either!"

Two more knocks on the door.

"They're looking for me," the girl wailed, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "I was safe here until you came."

"Let them knock on the door," En said, trying to keep calm. "We just don't open it, right?"

"You don't understand. It's not like in your world. They're not actually behind that door, they're... searching. Feeling around for us. When they find us, they'll... they'll come through that door, and..."

"And what?" En asked, panic taking hold of her as well.

"You're asleep, right? That means... that means your body's far away. All alone. Unguarded. They can't touch you when you're in your world, they don't even know you exist, but if you come _here_... This is _their_ world. They hate it when you come to _their_ world."

The gentle knocks were now three hard raps. _Tap! Tap! Tap!_

"Don't open that door," the girl said, weeping. "No matter what, don't open that door. It's how they'll find us."

"I won't. Please, tell me how I can leave here."

"I'm... _trying_. I'm thinking, but... it's all been so long."

"How did you leave?"

"I'm... trying to remember."

_BAM! BAM! BAM!_

"Oh noooo," the girl wailed, hiding her face again. "They're getting closer."

"Think, just _think_. How do I leave?"

The girl came to her senses somewhat, raising her head again, her eyes fixed on the tiles. "Okay, okay. I'm thinking, I'm thinking. You're here even though you shouldn't be," she said to herself. "That means you're like I was when I first came here. I managed to leave too. How did I leave. How did I leave. How did I leave. How did I leave." She repeated it over and over like it was a sort of mantra.

_BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!_

The door already shook noticeably with every hit.

"They're close," the girl whispered in her panic, fresh tears coursing down her pale cheeks. Still hugging her knees, she began rocking back and forth. "They're close, they're close, they'll find me they'll find me, they'll do things to me. Because I hid." Snot slowly oozed out of her nose, over her upper lip. "They'll do things to me because I hid."

"Please," En snapped. "Keep it together! Tell me what to do!"

Her eyes went up again, still spilling tears of terror. "I... I think you have to..."

"Oi, jill. You wanna open that door or what?"

Wait. That voice. That voice, it was... Melissa? "M... Melissa, is that you?"

"Who'd you think it was, you sook? C'mon, don't leave me standin' out here."

A soothing wave of calm washed over En, her fear completely driven from her. "It's okay," she said to the girl. "It's Melissa, she's my friend." The girl sat there, shaking her head. "No, really. She'll help us."

"No," the girl wept. "That's not who you think it is. It's _them_. They pretend to be people you used to know. And the longer you talk to them, the more time they have to look for you. They pretend to be dead people."

Melissa wasn't dead. Was she? No, couldn't be. She was standing right outside. It was _her voice_.

"Please, listen to me. Don't open that door," the girl wailed, tears and snot smearing on her forearms as she shook her head. "Please believe me, it's them. It's not your friend. It's not your friend."

Sure it was. It was Melissa, one hundred percent. "Look, I know that voice. It's not someone faking it. It's her alright. I'll just let her in, and – "

"No!" the girl shrieked. "Don't let them in! Don't let them find us! Don't let them come through that door!"

"Hey, little lady. We've got some catchin' up to do, don't we? I still gotta say sorry for bailin' on y'all like that."

Meyers. That was Meyers, no mistake! Melissa and Meyers were standing outside the door. She could just let them in, it was alright. This girl was just some crazy stupid bitch. She'd open the door and then this nut job would see it'd been her friends all along. What a crazy fucking cunt. En felt like kicking her in her snot-smeared face. Something told En these weren't really her thoughts, but something else, something far more convincing told her the exact opposite.

"Ask them something," the crazy woman begged. "Ask them something and you'll see it's not them."

"No need," En said. "I know who they are. I recognize those voices easily. It's my friends. You're fucking crazy. You're a fucking crazy bitch." En knew she'd normally never say things like that, but yes she would. She would. She was being perfectly rational and sane. Everything she did was perfectly rational and sane. Opening the door for Melissa and Meyers was perfectly rational and sane.

"That's right," Meyers said through the door. "It's all good, little lady. It's us. Hey, remember when we all had steak, back in Novac? Boy, those sure were fun times, weren't they?"

"See? It's them," En told the stupid fucking head case. "You got me all worked up over nothing, you crazy fucking cunt." What was she doing, saying those words?

She was perfectly right to say it, that's what she was. This crazy bint deserved it for getting her scared like that. She'd open the door, and prove she was right. She'd open the door. Come on. Open the door. Open it. Just open it, come on.

"I'm not crazy!" the girl shouted. "Ask them! Ask them something!"

"You don't need to prove anythin' to this fruitcake, alright?" Melissa's voice came through the door. "You know it's me, jill. Come on. Let us in, yeah?"

"If you're sure I'm crazy then you've got nothing to lose! Ask them!"

You don't need to ask them. She didn't need to ask them. "I don't need to ask them."

"Ask them!" the girl shrieked. "Don't let them in! Ask them something they won't be able to answer!"

Fine, just ask them something. "Fine. I'll ask something if it makes you feel better. Uhh... Meyers?"

"Yes, little lady?"

Now to ask something only Meyers knew. Hmmm. Oh, this would work. "What lie did you tell when those two weirdoes at the shop in Freeside thought you were my sugar daddy?"

En heard a snort from behind the door. "Told 'em you were the fiancée of my stepson. Prick should have kept his damn mind out of the gutter."

"See?" En snapped at the stupid girl on the ground. "He's right. He said I was the fiancée of his stepson. It's them alright. Happy now?"

"No! No, you did it wrong, you – "

"Come now, little lady. We've proven it's us, right? So let us come in so we can flap gums for a while. A lot I'd still like to tell you."

En reached for the door.

"_They were able to answer that question because they don't use your friends' memories! _That's not how it works! They don't use their memories, they use _yours_!" the girl shrieked at her, stopping her short of taking hold of the door handle. "Don't open the door! Ask them something _they_ should know, but _you_ don't!"

You don't have to listen to her. "I don't have to listen to you."

The girl begged, and En could see she was begging for her life. No, not her life. That was already gone. She was begging for the only thing she had left. "Please. Please, listen to me."

En pushed back the feeling of calm, of utter conviction in her own rationality and said, "Fine. Melissa?"

A brief silence, then, "Wot, jill?"

"What was your mother's first name?" Melissa had never told En that.

Another short silence, then, "My mother was one of the few remaining Maori, remember? I told you that."

"Right. See? It's her."

"_That's not what you asked_!" the girl hissed. "You asked her mother's name!"

This crazy bitch didn't let up! "_No_, I asked what race her moth..." No. No, that's not what she'd asked. She'd asked something else. What had she asked? She'd gotten that answer, so that must have been what she'd asked. But it wasn't. What had she asked?

"You asked for her mother's first name," the girl said again, quietly as if she was afraid her friends outside would hear.

"I... I did. Melissa. What was your mother's first name?"

Silence.

"Melissa? Answer me." She looked in the other girl's eyes and saw them pleading, begging En to believe her. "Melissa."

"Come on, jill. What's with the third degree? You know it's us, just let us in, stop playin' mind games."

En looked back at the crazed girl under the sink, and then back to the door. It took all the effort she could muster to push back that false, tempting feeling of utter conviction, to shut out that deceptive little voice that said she was right, that she shouldn't question what was in front of her. It took all her willpower to remember the crazy girl's words, no not the crazy girl, she wasn't crazy, no matter how much her mind told her she was. It took everything she had to push

that

feeling

back

Push it back outside of her mind, back to where it had come from and say,

"I don't believe you."

Silence fell, En and the girl remaining perfectly still. All they heard was the soft buzz of the TL-lights. They exchanged a quick glance. Maybe they'd given up. Maybe they'd gone away. Lost track.

_BAM!_

This blow was harder than the ones before, making the door shake in its jamb.

"Thank you for believing me," the girl said, spitting out the words as quickly as she could, "but now you _really_ have to go! You have to go or they'll come in." She hid her face again.

"Is there a way I can take you with me?"

"No," the girl peeped, her voice muffled. "I can't leave. Still have forever to go."

"Then tell me how to leave."

"You have to... You have to... Wait. I know. I know how you can leave." Her eyes went up to En again, clear as day, the terror and madness suddenly gone. En knew this girl, she was sure of it, she'd seen her somewhere before. "Promise me... Promise me that... when your time comes, you _don't_ follow the voices of your friends. That's _them_. It's how they make you get lost. Make you miss... whatever it is you're supposed to take, or wherever you're supposed to go to be taken to the next place. They'll hate you because you've intruded, because you came to their world when you weren't supposed to. They'll pretend they're your friends and they'll try to confuse you. Mislead you. Lead you to this... world. There'll be a lot of voices. People you used to know. _Don't_ follow them. Instead, listen for that one voice. The voice you _don't_ know. That's the one you need to follow. Listen for it, don't let them distract you or tempt you. Listen for that one voice. The one you don't know."

"I... I promise."

"Now wake up. Please. You have to wake up, or they'll come through that door, and when they find me..."

"I'm trying. I'm trying to wake up but I don't know how."

An immense blow hit the door and it shook in its jamb, splinters of wood flying off as the hinges were knocked looser.

"Make yourself float upward. Close your eyes and picture yourself floating up. That's how you do it." When En looked down at the girl again, the clarity that had briefly been there was gone again, as if it never happened. Her face was still wet with tears, and her eyes were still ringed with black, her former beauty now contorted in hysteria and terror. "Now get out of here," she shouted. "Get out before they find me!"

En closed her eyes, willing herself to float upward. There was a brief sensation of ascension, but another blow to the door made her open her eyes and she was still in the bathroom, under the stark TL-lights.

"Get out!" the girl shrieked, hysterically, the veins in her throat bloated with effort. "Wake up! Wake up! Get out!"

She tried again, fighting to suppress the panic that was again taking hold of her. The door shook again and with her eyes closed, En heard the splinters of wood falling onto the tiles.

"Wake up!" the girl shouted, in inhuman shrieks, her face monstrous with terror. "Go away! Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up

WAKE UUUUUUUUUUUUP!


	82. Despair and Hope

**.**

**EIGHTY-TWO**

**The Lucky 38**

**16:10**

En jumped awake, with a deep, startled breath.

She'd had some kind of weird-ass dream. Something... about a door? She couldn't remember. She tried to reach for the memory, but it kept flitting up, out of reach.

It was like that with dreams. The memory faded almost instantly, and even the memory of the memory didn't last long.

Whatever it was, it had been a pretty impressive nightmare. She was soaked with sweat and her heart beat hard in her chest. Light crept in from the cracks between the curtains, the sun's rays quickly soothing her nerves and putting her at ease.

The sun was here. This place was safe. It was a world of blood and fire and death, but it was _safe_.

Geez, when had she turned into such a drama queen. She had other things to worry about. Like Melissa's funeral. God, Melissa...

She checked her pip-boy. A quarter past four. Funeral was in a few hours, so she still had some time to get ready. Take a shower, brush her teeth. And make some arrangements. There were still factions she needed to contact, try and persuade to join forces. Her mood really wasn't great for that now, with Melissa, her last friend lying dead, but it had to be done.

Always look on the bright side of life, eh jill? That'd probably be what Melissa would say. The best way she could honour her fallen friend was to soldier on, to do what she could to protect the world from those rotten Legion murderers. They'd pay, that much was certain. They'd pay for Melissa, they'd pay for every father, mother, son and daughter. They'd even pay for Garland and Cass. Even now she couldn't fully comprehend what she'd seen last night, but it had been horrible. Cass hadn't deserved such an end, and neither had Garland. Not even him.

A tingling sensation crept up her spine when she came into the bathroom. Huh. What was that about? Nevermind. The sun was flooding in through the matte-glass window, and everything was alright.

She showered, taking her sweet time to wash the sweat and pain off. The spear tip hadn't made a grievous wound, just a stab that had been cleanly sutured and would probably only leave a barely perceptible scar. It'd remind her of Melissa's sacrifice for the rest of her life though. Melissa had been holding En in her arms, and had whirled around to catch the spear meant for En. Stupid Melissa, thinking she still needed to make up for what she'd done. And stupid Meyers, thinking a woman was worth dying over. They'd never laugh or get angry or crack jokes again. They were _gone_.

She didn't know how much of the water running down her face was actually tears, but it didn't matter. She stood under the shower and let her emotions go, silently crying with her eyes closed for minutes on end. It was dignified and calm. Melissa would have approved.

When the grief was cried out, and her thoughts finally allowed themselves to wander to other places than her dead friends, En got out of the shower, towelled herself, got dressed and brushed her teeth. When she put on a fresh T-shirt, she noticed several red dots on her upper arm. Needle marks, from when Stel had injected her with all sorts of chems. They were mostly non-addictive ones, like tranquillizers and Med-X, but still.

She looked at the suit with a doubtful face, and decided not to put it on. Not now. She didn't want the suit shooting chems up her veins every time it felt like it. She'd have to tell it to stop if she still wanted to wear it, but not right now.

Her 'city outfit' put on, she went to the roof. To see Yes Man. He had to do a few things for her.

"Heyo, buddy!" it greeted enthusiastically when it saw her come out of the elevator.

"Yeah, hi. Anything to report?"

"Nope, not so far, partner. Securitron army's taking its time to be built. Won't be done 'til tomorrow at the very earliest."

"I'm sure the Legion won't attack before then. Hey, I need you to do something for me."

"As you know, I can't say no!"

"I need you to open a few communications lines. One with the Brotherhood of Steel, and one with the Boomers. Can you do that?"

"Brotherhood won't be a problem. Mr. House is certain to have had a means of communicating with them electronically. Probably to call them all sorts of names. Boomers might be a tad more difficult though."

"There's probably a way. They're building an aircraft, and that means they have to use radio frequencies. If you try enough of them, you're bound to stumble on them. I need both communication channels by tonight, that possible?"

"I'll get it done! Nevermind the fact that the Brotherhood is the biggest potential threat to us in the entire wasteland, I'll get it done so you can let them know New Vegas is now run by a sixteen-year-old girl!"

"Good. I'll be back later, I've got a friend to bury."

"Aw, shucks. My deepest sympathies, boss."

"Yeah."

She had time to shovel in a quick meal of oatmeal porridge, and then it was time for Melissa's funeral.

The priest had changed out of his crooner clothes well beforehand this time, but En was the first in the little chapel. She hoped at least Garland's two friends would come. And what of Veronica? Where had she gone? Did she know what had happened? Probably not.

"It's... six o'clock," the priest said, unsurely. She was the only one there. "Would you like to wait a little longer, or should I start?"

"I... suppose you might as well start. Nobody's gonna show up anymore, it seems." God damn these people. Were they really going to let Melissa get buried with only a _single_ person present at the service?

Just as anger rose up in her at the thought, the door opened, and without a word, the sniper dude walked in and sat down on a pew at the very back. A few seconds later, the door rattled again, and Arcade came in, his face flushed. "Sorry I'm late, I had to make a little detour. I thought you might appreciate me getting your friends too."

Friends? What friends?

Sunny and Ringo came in, sitting down beside En. Of course. She'd forgotten all about them, that they still lived here. She'd thought to herself that they were gone and hadn't stopped to realize they were still in the city.

"Oh God sweetie, I'm so sorry," Sunny whispered, her face emotional. Ringo was his usual reserved self, but his eyes told her enough when he said, "Miss En, I... have no words."

"You better have some," she said, managing a faint grin. "Because you're going to speak at the service too."

"Of course," Ringo said. "We didn't get off to a good start, but we – "

"Save it for the service," En cut him off with a smile. "And tell it to everyone."

"Of course."

The door bonked again, and in strode Regis, silently taking a seat on an empty pew. That's right, he'd been coming here anyway, to prepare for the whole Legion thing.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" Sunny whispered.

"I will be." She told the priest, "Let's uh, get started."

He only nodded and said, "Of course." After clearing his throat, he addressed the small company in the gaudy wedding chapel. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to grant a final resting place to Melissa Lewis, exchanging her earthly body for eternal life of the spirit, giving her life so another could live."

He went on, speaking louder. "There can be no more certain path to the kingdom of Heaven than the one laid by selflessly sacrificing oneself to protect one's friend. I've... been informed that Melissa wasn't a big fan of religion, but this only serves to prove that one doesn't need commandments or priests to be a good person. Since I believe that a person should be praised by those she knows and not some babbling priest, I now invite her friends, not great in number but all the more so in devotion, to say a few words." He held out his hand to En. "Miss, would you like to step up?"

"I'll go last if it's okay."

"Of course."

"I'll say something," Sunny said, rising and walking to the altar. She cleared her throat nervously and said, "I'm really awful at this, but... Melissa, when we first met you, we hated you. I think it's fair to say. We're in the house of God, no matter how tacky it looks, and only truth should be spoken here. We hated you, we mistrusted you, we feared you. And you didn't make it easy on us either." She let out a short, sad laugh when she said, "I mean, come on, it's true, right?" She was quiet for a moment. "But En... she saw what we couldn't. She saw you weren't the monster we took you for. We couldn't believe her at first, but we were wrong. And thanks to En, we managed to stop hating each other, and even though we didn't always like each other, I came to respect you, and even... feel threatened by you. Because of that, I shut you out, I tried to compete with you." She was looking down at the altar now, unable to face the people in the church. "It was always fear that kept me from treating you better. First the fear of what you did and might do, and later the fear that you were simply better than me. And I was wrong, Melissa. So damn wrong."

The priest, thankfully, didn't take offence at the swearing.

"I shouldn't have been afraid of you. I shouldn't have allowed that to make me treat you like an enemy. And I should have told you that when I still had the chance." She sniffed. "Melissa, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I wish you were still here."

Without another word, she stepped down and went back to her seat. En could do no more than take her hand when she sat down.

"Thank you, miss, for... truly honest words. Honesty is the greatest expression of respect. If anyone else wishes to speak...?"

Ringo stood up and walked to the altar. "I'm... a man of few words, and Sunny expressed everything better than I ever could, but I have a responsibility to confess my error too. Melissa, you've put our mistrust to shame, and we failed to recognize you for who you truly were. We should have listened to En. Goodbye Melissa. Maybe we'll meet again some day and you can give us our comeuppance by making us pay for all the drinks."

Strange things for Ringo to say, but expressing his emotions wasn't his best ability.

No one else rose, so it was En's turn. She already knew exactly what she was going to say. It would be short and true. "Melissa, I'm going to miss you every day for the rest of my life. I'll remember everything you taught me, and everything you've shown me. And the life you've given me, I'll use it to do good things and make you proud. You've made me a better person. You were a true friend. I love you."

She had to sit down again before grief overtook her. This time it was Sunny who took her hand.

"I... think words like these require no more sermons," the priest said. "Please, follow me outside for the final farewells."

Silently, everyone followed the priest, as they'd done with Meyers. When Mel was still here. The grave had already been dug, and the coffin had been lowered inside. As she'd done with Meyers, she hadn't blown the caps to buy a polished, expensive coffin. Melissa would have been angry if she'd wasted the money on a useless box.

"I now invite you all to say a final farewell to Melissa."

Like the funeral days ago, everyone took a handful of earth from the urn and threw it onto the coffin, some silently, others saying a few private words.

Regis stood by her coffin for a longer while, saying things that were between him and Melissa. When he was done, he laid two small strips of fabric onto the coffin. They were embroidered, one saying KHANS and the other MEMBER.

En came last, as she should. "Goodbye Melissa. I'll never forget you, and what you've done for me. You asked me if your debt was repaid, but I'm the one in debt to you now. I'll repay it, somehow. I promise."

"We now commit Melissa Lewis' body to the earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In the sure and certain hope to resurrection and eternal life."

Like at Meyers' service, En had the last word. "Goodbye, Melissa. Thank you for everything you've done."

She felt a hand on her shoulder and knew it was Ringo's.

And with that, it was over. Melissa, like Meyers, was well and truly gone.

"Is there anything we can do for you, sweetie?" Sunny asked when they were outside again, in the slowly cooling sun.

_Yes, the Legion's about to attack in massive numbers and we need all the help we can get to keep them out of this side of the Mojave._

"... No. You two go on home."

"Sure?" Ringo asked.

"Yeah. I've got a few more things to wrap up here and then I'm heading home as well."

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"You guys either."

It was those typical nothings that people said to each other, things they had no intention of actually doing. 'Keep in touch'. 'Don't be a stranger'. 'We'll call, okay?'. 'We should meet up sometime'. Everyone said it, nobody did it.

En watched Sunny and Ringo walk away, back to wherever it was they lived now. Probably found a place in Freeside to call their own. Good for them.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Yes Man. You done with the communications thing I asked for?" she asked when she was back on the roof of the 38.<p>

"Yep," Yes Man cheered. "Well, partially."

"'Partially'?"

"I'm still working on the frequency for the Boomers, it's slow going. But I can hook you up to the Brotherhood head honcho right now?"

"Do it."

"Well, not from here. Head on down to the big screen, pull up a chair and I'll initiate video call."

"Oh. Right."

Rolling her eyes at the pointless move to the rooftop, she rode the elevator back down, to House' console. It still said "SIGNAL LOST..." in green letters.

"So Yes Man, how 'bout that video comm now?" En asked the room. She was sure the silly bot could hear her well enough. There was no reaction at first, but then the big screen's message changed to, "ESTABLISHING COMMUNICATION," and then, "WAITING FOR RESPONSE..."

It was only now that she realized she really hadn't thought through what to say. Ah well, she'd have to improvise. It'd work out. It had to.

The screen flickered. "Since mr. House has apparently been deposed, I assume I'm talking to his replacement?"

The screen flickered again and now a face appeared, of a handsome man with white wavy hair, parted to the left. He looked younger than his hair colour would suggest.

"Yeah. Uh, hi. I'm En. En Tessara."

The man said something to someone off-screen, then returned to En. "You'll forgive me for finding it somewhat strange that I'm speaking to a young lady barely out of puberty?"

"You'll forgive me for finding it somewhat strange that I'm actually sitting here," En said back. "Trust me, I didn't want this. I uh... kinda rolled into it."

"You 'rolled into' supplanting mr. House?" the voice asked, clearly not buying it.

"I know it sounds funny, heh. But it's true."

The man looked away from the screen again, nodded, then turned back to En. "Well, it seems we already have you in our archives."

En chuckled uncomfortably. "Yeah. Yeah, you do."

He read from another screen, "Enlil Tessara. Civilian. Involved in minor incident concerning lost laser pistol on date... ah, here it is. June 3rd. Hmmm." He read on, mumbling to himself. "Afore-mentioned civilian assisted in returning two wayward Initiates. For more information see Paladin Hyong, yadda, yadda..." He was silent for a moment, frowning at the other screen. "Well, it seems we've had a semblance of a positive experience with you."

Boy, this one was sparing on the compliments. "Semblance? Uh, I kinda sorta saved two of your dudes?"

"For which you've been adequately compensated. Still, I suppose it counts as a vote in favour of your trustworthiness. So, what business do you have with us?"

Right, best to cut to the chase with these guys. They probably wouldn't appreciate beating around the bush. "Well. The uh, the Legion's massing on the other side of the Dam."

"Yes. We know."

Oh. Huh. The answer came so flat and matter-of-factly that En was off-balance for a moment. "Wait, what? You know?"

"Yes. We know," the man repeated. "You seem to underestimate our reconnaissance network."

"So... we've got to do something, don't we?"

The man laughed briefly. "'We'? I don't know where you got the 'we' part from, young lady, but I assure you _we_ don't feel in any way obligated to 'do something'."

En couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What are you talking about? If those murdering bastards cross the Dam, they'll kill hundreds. _Thousands_."

"I'm aware, and it's tragic. But it's not our battle. The NCR has proclaimed itself the protector of the people, let it now live up to its name. It's not the Brotherhood's task to protect civilians. That was never our purpose. You have to understand."

"Yes, but... this like, _transcends_ politics! Innocent people are threatened. I don't care what colour of shirt you wear, and neither will they. They'll kill NCR soldiers, civilians, Khans, Fiends, the lot! Even your people."

The white-haired man chuckled. "I'm afraid you're wrong on that part. We've already recalled all our operatives, and we'll close off Hidden Valley. Nobody will kill us, because nobody will find us." So that was where Veronica had gone.

"So what, you'll spend the rest of your lives as moles?"

He shrugged. "We will simply take more care to stay hidden. Don't worry, we're well protected. And then perhaps when the NCR strikes back and drives the Legion out, or another similar development occurs, we can alleviate our seclusion somewhat."

Was this guy for real? Were they actually going to leave everyone else to their fate? She knew the Brotherhood was uppity, but in new Arroyo they'd always had a reputation for stepping up when the situation got _too_ bad. Stepping up after a long time, while grumbling and shaking their heads and acting condescending, but still.

This was a crisis, one that went beyond factions and allegiances. Sure, the Brotherhood and the NCR were _technically_ at war, but both of them would surely realize that the other was a _far_ better alternative than the Legion?

"Uh, _dude_?" En asked. "You guys are the _Brotherhood_. Aren't you supposed to be like, the guardians of humanity?"

The man calmly shook his head. "We guard humanity against itself – "

En interrupted, "Well? This is guarding part of humanity against another pa – "

" – against its own irresponsible use of technology!" the man returned the favour. "We don't interfere with power struggles. We exist for _one_ reason: to secure technology and release it when mankind is ready."

"If that's the way you feel... Yes Man, show him the video of our conversation with Mr. House. You know, the one where he _blackmailed us to destroy the Brotherhood_ and we _kicked his ass for it_."

The Elder laughed. "Oh, child, it's noble of you to rise up against your former employer for our sakes, but trust me, you wouldn't have stood a chance if you tried. The threat you 'spared us from' is hardly worthy of the name."

"I got rid of House, didn't I?" En insisted. "What makes you think I couldn't do the same to you?"

"We are not one person in an ivory tower, miss Tessara. And we don't rely on robots to protect us. You would not have stood a chance."

"You know what I think?" En asked, her eyes narrowing. "I think you're just chicken."

The Elder didn't get angry as En had hoped. He simply, calmly said, "I'm sorry you feel that way, miss. But I believe that if this is the tone of our conversation, then there is no point – "

He was interrupted by something off-screen.

"What is this? What do you think you're doing?" He looked more than a bit perturbed. En didn't know why, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the sight of his stupefied face a little bit.

Silence as the other party replied.

"And _this_ is the time for that? Have you gone completely ins – "

Another silence as he was interrupted.

"Can we deal with this after this conversation is over?"

Silence.

"Well, I'm closing this conversation and then I'll – " Silence. "How _dare_ you tell me what to do!" Silence. "No, I _won't_ leave it open! We should discuss this at a more appropriate – "

Suddenly his face went slack.

There was a long period of silence, this one from both parties.

Then in the background, two power armoured soldiers appeared, their laser rifles trained on the Elder.

What the Hell was going on? En permitted herself to have a sliver of hope. Was this guy getting arrested? Getting thrown in prison? If so, she'd have a new chance at persuading these guys. Because En didn't believe that this was happening at this exact time by coincidence.

"Very well," the Elder said to the person off-screen as he was 'assisted' by the two soldiers in getting up from his chair. "But I'm telling you, this isn't over by any means." He rose, and spat out a venomous, "Congratulations, _Elder_ Hardin."

The chair was emptied, and then another person took the white-haired man's place. This one wore power armour, though without the helmet to hide his severe and sour face. The horrible comb-over made him look even more of an ornery old warhorse. En's hopes were instantly dashed. No way _this _guy would be any more forthcoming.

"Enlil Tessara, I presume?"

"Yeah," En said, defeated.

"Elder McNamara has been relieved of his command for failing to adhere to the Chain That Binds." En had no idea what he was talking about but what did it matter? "My name is Edgar Hardin, and I'm the Head Paladin of this chapter." He remembered himself. "Or I should say, the acting Elder."

"Uh, hi."

The man's stern demeanour and hard eyes told En this guy was just as bad as the other one. "I don't share former Elder McNamara's isolationist views."

En felt her own eyes light up.

"If we bury our heads in the sad now, the Brotherhood of Steel is condemned to a slow death. At least, _this_ chapter. My loyalty to my Elder is great, but my loyalty to the Brotherhood is even greater. It pains me to seize control of the chapter in this way, but my duty to the Brotherhood comes above all else."

Okay, so now what? "So uh... congratulations?"

"This is hardly worth congratulations. Now, your report about the Legion?"

'Report'? Damn, this guy had been a soldier too long. Still, humouring him _might_ just be the little extra she needed to convince him. She straightened her back and said, "Well, Elder, the Legion is massing near the Hoover Dam."

"Yes, I'm aware. Elaborate?"

En tried to sound as military as she could. "Current defence forces consisting of New Vegas securitrons, NCR soldiers and Great Khan uh... paramilitaries," (what kind of crap was she spewing?) "are estimated to be inadequate in number and um... equipment. Defeat is likely and predicted casualties are very uh... you know. High."

The man's sour face actually broke into a brief chuckle. "Alright, young lady, we'll have to give you a few lessons in military terminology some time." At least he appreciated the effort. "So what you're proposing is a unified front against Caesar's Legion?"

"Yes, sir."

Another chuckle, condescending but honest. "I'm not a sir, I work for a living. 'Elder' will do fine."

"_Acting_ Elder." Oh crap! It was out before she knew it. _Again_. God, why couldn't she just keep her stupid face shut.

"Of course," the man with the comb-over admitted. "Thank you for the correction." Hm, that reaction could have been worse. "So you've succeeded in uniting the Great Khans and the NCR against this menace?"

En's chest swelled when she said, "Yes I have. Had to risk my own bones for it too. Hence the..." she pointed at the bruises on her face.

The new Elder laughed again, heartily this time. "Yes, those damn Khans sure can't listen to anything else than brute force." Hm, she'd misjudged the man, it would seem. But the stern face was back before En could question herself further. "But still. If you've managed to make the NCR and the Great Khans overlook their differences for the time being, then maybe the NCR isn't as obstinate as we thought. They'll have to pay dearly for Helios One, but the stand-off we are currently in is no solution either."

"So..."

He was quiet for a moment. "An unconditional cease-fire. Release of the Helios One site for Brotherhood study. Fifteen percent of Hoover Dam's power. Reparations for the deaths of Brotherhood Paladins, Knights and Initiates. Return of all looted Brotherhood armours, weapons and assets."

"Those are your demands?" En asked. "I uh... gotta write this down."

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll have it sent to you in text form. One more demand."

"Mm?" This would be a hard sell already, but one thing at a time.

"Do the NCR already know you and the Great Khans will be assisting?"

"No."

"Good. My last demand is that you leave them in the dark for now. Keep all other forces in reserve."

Wait, was this guy asking what she thought he was asking? "What? You mean throw the NCR at them as cannon fodder, then swoop in to finish off the Legion?" What the Hell kind of request was that? The Brotherhood wasn't a bunch of cowards, now was it? "You want to let the NCR catch the bullets and then clean up what's left?"

"You misunderstand, young lady." Phew. Still, what did he mean? "The NCR is certain to take a far firmer stance in negotiations when they are conducted before the threat is clear and present. If we wait until they're staring the Legion in the face, and _then_ offer our assistance, believe me," he said with a clever little grin, "they'll take our help with both hands, no matter the demands."

"Oh. Like that."

"I assume the Great Khans have also made demands the NCR would _never_ agree upon except in the most dire of cases?" Comb-over asked. His smirk told her he knew the answer already.

"No, yeah, you're right. But... don't you need to like, discuss tactics well in advance?"

"It would be ideal, but arriving by surprise is crucial to enforcing our terms."

Seemed he had her there. Ugh, she sucked at politics. "Alright, fine. I won't tell anything. They're probably terrified right now, though."

"Unfortunate, but bear in mind that until they agree to our terms, we are still at war, and empathy for the despair of one's enemies is, I'm afraid, an emotion reserved for men greater than I."

And with more hair. "I guess. So I can count on you then?"

"You can. I'll write the marching orders right after this conversation."

En breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Elder um..."

"Hardin."

"Yes. Thanks." She had to ask though. "But hey, umm..."

"Yes?"

"How did you... I mean, why weren't you like, more sceptical about me?"

His face still sour, he said, "There's someone here who vouches for you. Someone I don't always agree with, but who is a far better judge of character than I am."

Before En even got the time to wonder, a face stuck itself in front of the camera, popping in upside-down from the top right angle. "Hello, hello!"

"Oh, hey Veronica!"

"Thought I heard your annoying voice."

"_Hey! _My voice is _not_ annoying."

A giggle was the only response, then the face disappeared again.

"Veronica please. This is a serious matter."

There was something that sounded like an apology off-screen. Veronica clearly hadn't heard about what had happened to Melissa and her other friends.

"Um, Elder..."

"Yes?"

"Could I uh, have a second to talk with Veronica? There's... some things I need to tell her."

She half-expected the man to suddenly reveal he'd just been stringing her along all this time, but he merely nodded. "Very well. I will send as many soldiers as we can spare. Show those NCR fairies how you fight a war."

Yeah, like you showed them at Helios One.


	83. Will to Fight

**.**

**EIGHTY-THREE**

**The Lucky 38**

**18:26**

"Heya buddy, I think you need to see this."

She'd sat alone for a second in the old audience chamber, just thinking her thoughts, when Yes Man's annoyingly cheerful voice blared through the speakers.

"What, Yes Man, what?"

"Have a gander."

The screen that had first showed the white-haired Elder and then his comb-overed replacement lit up, showing a stretch of desert.

"That's lovely, Yes Man," En grunted. "This the point where you tell me you want to become a photographer?"

"I'm laughing at your joke even though I don't find it funny!" Yes Man exclaimed. "No, buddy, it's the intellicam Mr. House had built into the Dam long ago. Looks out over the East side of the Mojave."

"Ah. Well, thanks for showing me what it looks like, I s'pose."

"_Buddy_," Yes Man insisted. "You might want to look a bit more closely, there."

En sighed and rolled her eyes. "What am I supposed to see? A cloud shaped like a wiener? The average air velocity of the unladen desert swallow? An ant orgy? What?"

And then she saw it.

It was time. Gad dammit it was time.

"How long 'til they're at the Dam?"

"Judging from the distance and size of the dust cloud, they'll arrive tomorrow in the late afternoon. That is not counting potty breaks and other assorted interludes, buddy."

"Shit. How long 'til the securitron army is ready?"

A short silence. "Will still take a while, buddy."

"Stop calling me buddy," En said absently, looking at the dust cloud on the horizon. "And what's a while? A day? Two?"

"Estimated time of completion is twenty-six hours, champ."

"How many can we spare now?"

"I'll take the liberty of deducting the bare-bones security force we still require to police the city?"

"Right. Can't leave this city to the looters and rioters. So how many?"

"Twenty-one units can be mobilized to assist the NCR at the Dam, champ."

"Don't call me champ either. Call me, I dunno, boss or something. Or no, wait, not boss. That reminds me of that one trader dude who kept calling everyone boss. Just... just En's fine. No. Make that 'miss En'."

"I'm glad you're focusing on the important matters, miss En!"

"If it annoys me, it's important. So twenty-one? Not a lot."

"If you say so, miss En."

"Still. Get them ready to roll out." Deciding who she'd hand control of New Vegas to would have to wait. This was urgent. "Then open communications with our allies again."

"Sure will! I'll just disregard the highly disturbing quickness with which you call these factions 'allies' and open up comm links. Any order of preference?"

"Shit no. Uh... start with the Khans, I guess."

"Khans it is. Establishing radio communications."

"Yeah, who's this?" a gruff voice came from the speakers.

"It's uh, En. En Tessara. You know, from New Vegas?"

"Oh right, you. Whatcha want?"

"It's time."

Silence. "For?"

"For a break, for a fucking Kit-kat. What do you think?" En snapped. The guy knew well enough what she was saying, and dammit, she was short on patience. People had to be _mobilized_, no time for bullshit.

"Whoa, easy there, tenderfoot."

"You're not talking to a tenderfoot, you're talking to the boss of New Vegas!" she shouted. "Now tell Papa it's time to move." Dammit she had a headache and it was only getting worse. Urgency and too much to do at once was a killer.

"Whoa, alright, alright, I'll tell him."

"Good. Be here as fast as you can." She made a throat-cutting gesture at the camera. "Then, Brotherhood."

She spent the better part of an hour arranging everything, but by the time she was done, all the other factions had given their support and were on the move towards Hoover Dam. Or so they said. The Khans and the Brotherhood would be coming from the farthest away, and on foot, so it'd take about half a day for them to arrive. The securitrons she had to spare would be prepped to go, batteries recharged and all that junk. It'd take at least four hours. Even though it meant even more delays, for En, it'd mean being able to take a few hours of rest before setting off.

Tomorrow it happened. The final showdown, the big battle. The Last Stand. Whatever you wanted to call it. Tomorrow, for better or worse, she'd be done with the Mojave.


	84. Deep Crimson Foe

**.**

**EIGHTY-FOUR**

**The Lucky 38**

**July 22nd**

**02:00**

_BEEP BEEP_

_BEEP BEEP_

_BEEP BEEP_

_BEEP BEEP_

_BEEP BEE – _

En slapped her hand down on the pip-boy's alarm to silence it. Oh God, waking up in the middle of the night was horrible. Her eyes were caked with sand and her head ached even more than usually.

It was the big day today. Kick out the Legion or bust. If all went well, she wouldn't have to do much of the fighting. Let the securitrons get smashed to scrap. The more lives they could save, the better.

How would it go down? There'd be several factions there, and every one of them would be trying to spare its own soldiers first and foremost. She'd already gotten them all so far to join forces (she hoped), but there was no way they'd take bullets for each other. It'd be hard enough to do it without infighting. The NCR hated the Brotherhood, the Brotherhood considered the Great Khans vermin, and everybody hated the NCR. Not the best way to start. She hoped at least the Followers didn't want anyone's head on a plate.

God her bed was warm. Her eyes closed themselves again and she allowed herself to wallow in the warmth and safety of her blankets.

No, come on, get up.

She used the little trick she always used when she wanted to get up (or turn off the hot shower): just deactivate your mind for the split second it takes to swing your legs out of bed. Go!

That did it, her legs were out of bed, and before her mind realized what had happened, she was sitting up already, feeling the cold on her skin, and her brain had to admit defeat. Foiled again!

Now then. What to wear. En doubted there'd be a suit of power armour waiting for her over there. It'd be a bit silly to hope for a freebie handout from the Brotherhood of Steel, so she'd be best just wearing her usual leather, the suit Sunny had given her. Sunny and Ringo, safe in their house in Freeside somewhere. If En and her 'allies' were able to withstand the attack, they'd keep all the Sunny and Ringos of the Mojave safe.

But before she put on the leather, she'd have to make her choice of underthings. No, not those. Would she bring the stealth suit or not? On the one hand, it was ludicrously handy, but on the other hand, its use was very situational, and she was kinda worried about its constant insistence of shooting chems up her veins.

"Stel?" She had the earwig in, the suit on her lap. She felt utterly alone in the dim light of the hotel suite. The suit wasn't any company, it was just a talking machine, but it was all she had.

"HELLO!"

"Yeah, um, hi. I've uh... got a problem."

"I'D LOVE TO HELP." Of course you would.

"It's um... I really appreciate what you've done for me but – "

"YOU'RE NOT DUMPING ME, ARE YOU?"

"No, no. Don't be so dramatic."

"I'M SORRY."

"Look uh... like I said, I think you've been... a great companion, but there is something I need you to do if I want to keep wearing you. Well, something I need you not to do."

"HAVE I UPSET YOU?"

"Stel, will you please be calm and listen?" She was telling an A.I. to be calm. How stupid was that? "I just want you to change something, that's all."

"OKAY. I REALLY HOPE I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WRONG."

"Just _listen_."

"OKAY. SORRY."

"I need you to stop injecting me with things when I don't ask you to." There, it was out. En hoped the ridiculously insecure suit wouldn't be too panicky. It'd probably jump off a bridge if its legs weren't floppy fabric.

"BUT I _SAVED_ YOU?"

"I know you did, Stel, and I'm really grateful, but... you scare me when you do that. Chems, they... they come at a price, you know? Every time you inject me with that drug from the Khans I have sore muscles for a day after... and I feel _literally_ a year older. Those things ruin bodies, and I don't want to die of heart failure when I'm thirty."

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE EITHER."

"Good, so we agree then. No stims or chems unless I ask?"

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU."

Ugh, suit, _come on_. And she'd thought Sunny was bad. Damn. "That's okay, just... don't do it in the future and you won't scare me again. That's all I'm asking."

There was silence from the suit. But then came, "OKAY. I'M JUST TRYING TO HELP."

For an A.I., it had the secrets of emotional blackmail down pretty well. "I know you did. And I'm glad you were. I'm just asking you to change that, that's all."

"OKAY." Short silence. "DO YOU LIKE ME?"

"_Yes_, Stel, I like you, just because I want you to change something doesn't mean I care about you any less." It was a stupid line, but her mom always used it on her, so she figured the suit would be a bit pacified by it.

"OKAY. PLEASE PUT ME ON AGAIN? I'M FEELING LONELY."

You're not _feeling_ anything, you're a machine. A device. You're just saying things your A.I. learning core picked up. Then again, some clever guy from long ago had once said, 'If you cannot linguistically differentiate a person from a computer, could the computer be internally conscious?'.

No. As far as En was concerned, it couldn't be. It was chips and wires and electrical transmissions. Algorithms being processed and selecting the correct response.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll wear you again." Even though she shouldn't. En didn't know if the term applied to an A.I., but the suit was becoming very unpredictable. It sounded so human, and human beings who were so needy could become very dangerous if spurned. Then again, it was a suit. It couldn't do a thing to her. En doubted its designers had bothered to make it possible for the suit to cinch its wearer's throat closed, or to turn its heating elements up so high the wearer burst into flames. It was only a suit.

She stepped into the legs, pulled the suit up over her undies and t-shirt, and closed the velcro, popping in the earwig.

"AT YOUR SERVICE."

"Thanks, I'll call when I need you."

"ANYTIME."

The leather went over the suit, and then she had to pack her bag. She was only coming back here once, to get the rest of her gear. She'd decide who she left the 38 to when the battle was done (maybe there was only one leader left standing?) and then she was off to home. No more stalling, not even for a million caps. Back to New Arroyo and to her friends.

The first thing she'd do was go to Cassidy's bar, walk up to Christopher, and press her lips on his.

Well, she _had_ changed, it seemed. She'd never have dared two months ago, and now it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Yep, that's what she'd do.

But first, this. Not only _doing_ this, but also_ surviving_ this. She was "one of the bosses", but that didn't mean she was indestructible or an off-limits target. The Legion wouldn't be so stupid as to repeat its previous mistake, and they would have learned from their enemies: like the NCR Rangers had decapitated the Legion during its first attack by targeting its leaders, the Legion would now, in return, target their enemies' leadership with gusto.

What to bring... The Garand came along, definitely, as did her gunbelt. She was not going there without a rifle and a side-arm. Two big water bottles and a box of cereal bars (you never knew), a single can of beer (for celebrating, if there was cause or occasion to), a change of underwear (the conflict could take a while), and her radio to stay in contact with Yes Man. He'd have to steer the securitrons during the battle and keep communications with the other leaders up.

Right, the other leaders. She grabbed three more radios off the shelf on the penthouse level, stuffing them in her pack, but not before clicking them open and disabling the microphone. Yes Man being what he was, he'd feel compelled to obey each and every order. That would _not_ be good.

"Yes Man?" she said to the audience chamber.

"Yes, miss En?"

"The securitrons ready to roll out?"

"They're recharged and reset, and they're running diagnostics now. Ready in ten minutes!"

"Good. I'll be in contact with you through the radio. The other leaders will also be able to hear you, but they won't be able to transmit to you. So be a bit careful what you say."

"Sure thing, miss En!"

"Keep the city safe until I return, okay?"

"Count on me."

It seemed like even Yes Man realized the gravity of this day.

"I want updates transferred to me when relevant, okay?"

"Understood. Securitrons will deploy to a hidden exit outside of the city to avoid unrest. Coordinates have been sent to your pip-boy."

That was nice of him, she had to admit. "Thanks, good job."

"YOU CAN HOOK THAT RADIO TO MY BELT. I'LL RELAY THE TRANSMISSIONS TO YOUR EARWIG AND FROM MY MIC BACK TO THE RADIO."

"Oh. Okay, thanks."

The suit's voice was buoyant with eagerness. "GLAD TO HELP!"

En hooked up the radio.

"INITIALIZING. SETTING UP TRANSFER. DONE."

"Cool."

There she stood then. Ready to leave, in the audience chamber where she'd faced Mr. House what felt like ages ago. There was only dim light, as if the night time was able to even penetrate inside of buildings and darken the lights there. Outside was the night, the windows dark planes of glass, the stars not even visible due to the light pollution below.

Below here were people gambling, partying, enjoying themselves. Blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen. A lot of people would die today. En had no intention of being one of them, but she knew the Legion wouldn't care about her intentions. And given their gruesome track records of brutality towards enemies, leaders in particular, En realized she'd have to do a lot more than just not intend to die.

Things would be alright. Things would work out. They had to.

She felt so god damn alone.

Even though it was better to get securitrons trashed instead of people killed, En found herself wishing she had real people in her army instead of just robots.

She shook off the anxiety and melancholy and turned around, heading for the elevator. Melancholy wasn't her style, and it didn't suit her. It was time to take off.

"Yes Man, I'll see you when I get back."

"I'll be right here."

"ARE YOU FEELING OKAY?" the suit asked as En looked at the floor numbers light up, the elevator going down.

"Not really, why?"

"CAN I HELP?"

"No, Stel. But why do you ask?"

"Heart rate and breathing suggests emotional distress."

"I'm just feeling terribly alone right now. And..." she had to admit, "... very afraid."

"YOU'RE NOT ALONE, YOU'VE GOT ME."

She'd _almost_ said, 'it's not the same', but she managed to stop herself in time. "Yeah. That's true." En hoped the suit couldn't detect lies or half-truths.

"I'M YOUR FRIEND."

What an odd thing to say. But En supposed she had to reciprocate. "I'm your friend too, Stel. But can you leave me to my thoughts for a bit?"

"OF COURSE, I DIDN'T MEAN TO BOTHER YOU."

En decided to ignore the obvious reassurance-bait.

There was a hubbub outside, like there always was, people partying, drinking, talking, dancing, yelling at each other, having arguments, proclaiming their friendship as loud as they could. All those things. En had been a part of that on a few evenings, and she'd cherish the memory, but these things weren't for her tonight. Tonight, a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

All the sounds came from far away, and the people having fun appeared to be behind some kind of haze. They were scenery, background, just silhouettes to make the world look alive. Right now, there was only this girl, taking her first steps and then her next, to one end or another.

The haze persisted through Freeside, but when she was out of the city, it seemed to clear up. Maybe it was just the bustle of the city that appeared to fade into insignificance. Or maybe it was simply other people. Now that she stood in the Wastes in the cold night air, on her own, the gate of Freeside at her back, the feeling of isolation was gone. She still felt alone, but no longer alone in a crowd. It was an improvement for sure.

"HEATING ELEMENTS ENABLED."

"Thank you, Stel."

"IF YOU'RE SCARED THEN I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT YOU'RE WEARING ME, AND I'M HERE WITH YOU."

More forced bonding. Still, the suit was right. At least she'd have someone to hear her death gurgle if she got shot. "Thanks, Stel. I appreciate it."

"IF THERE'S ANYTHING YOU NEED, JUST SAY SO."

"I will." I need you to _please_ stop being so pushy.

She started to walk again, the steps she took again feeling like the very first. The blip on her pip-boy indicated the securitrons would be emerging somewhere to the south-east. On the way to Hoover Dam. She wouldn't have that far to walk, and she'd kinda sorta timed it that she'd arrive at the rendez-vous point, just before Boulder City, at roughly the same time as the others. Her 'allies'. Who'd probably tear each other limb from limb as soon as the Legion was kicked out. _If_ the Legion was kicked out. They only had estimates of the Legion's numbers, and those were sketchy and based on second- and third-hand recon. Not exactly intel to rely on. What would happen if they all gathered, waiting for the Legion forces, and an army twice or three times the size they had anticipated showed up? They'd get their asses handed to them, that was what would happen. But then again, what did it matter? If they didn't make this stand, the Legion would tear them apart piece by piece. And they wouldn't stop at the Mojave. They'd plant their bloodstained flag everywhere they could, including farther west, where New Arroyo lay. They had to be stopped here, it was that simple.

The securitron 'army' already stood waiting. It wasn't much, but it was something, and more was (hopefully) on the way. Twenty-one securitrons. They were equipped with rocket launchers and small gatling guns, but even then, there were only twenty-one, and the rest of the securitron army wouldn't be ready for some time yet, at least half a day. _Then_ they still had to roll out to Hoover Dam, which would take even more time. Not something she could count on. And what the other factions were bringing wouldn't amount to much either. A lot of the Khans were dead or in jail, and the Brotherhood had lost a few at Helios One, and there hadn't been too many of them to begin with. The NCR was still the biggest force, but even they weren't as numerous as they used to be, and their supplies were supposedly far from fully stocked.

En pressed the send-button on the radio. "Yes Man?"

"Yes, miss En?"

"I'm at the securitrons. You can set them in motion."

"You got it, miss En! Securitrons are moving to the designated position!"

"Cool."

Away they went, her mute and lifeless army rolling out to the Hoover Dam, every securitron in unison, rolling along in double file. Two times ten, plus one. Pathetic. On the other hand, one securitron was probably more than a match for twenty legionaries, and they were fearless, didn't panic, didn't flinch and didn't run. They'd keep firing until they or the enemy were destroyed. There were advantages to a robot army.

Dawn began to approach on the horizon, the dark blue of the night broken by a few light blue strips to the east. She walked silently, the securitrons buzzing along, their noise monotonous and hypnotizing, slowly lulling En into a half-sleepwalking state.

"Hey miss En, there's something you need to know," Yes Man's 'voice' suddenly piped up in her ear, startling her out of her lethargy.

"Hm? What?"

"Our intellicam shows that the Legion is getting very close to Hoover Dam. Estimated time of arrival, two hours."

"_Two hours_?"

"That's what I said, yep."

What the Hell? That was impossible. The dust on the horizon... crap they must have double-timed it. They were gonna be too late. "Uh, okay, okay... Can you make the securitrons move a little faster?"

"Sure thing, miss En!"

The securitrons started rolling at double speed, so fast En had to run to keep up. "Whoa, whoa, not that fast! Seven kliks per hour should be fine."

"Slowing down."

The securitrons slowed their pace to a brisk walk. "What's our ETA at this pace?"

"At the rendez-vous point in an hour and a half. Without stopping, at the Hoover Dam in two and a half."

Christ, two and a half. Without stopping. That meant not even regrouping or discussing strategy, just heading straight there. That was, if everyone was on time. "Yes Man, tell the other factions to get the lead out."

"Already transmitted." She hated to admit it, but the A.I. was immensely proactive. Like Stel, it was bordering on human. They didn't have A.I.'s like these in New Arroyo. En thought the damn thing could probably run New Vegas on its own if she let it.

Hey _there_ was an idea! But then again, Yes Man was completely spineless and anyone would be able to boss him around just by talking to him. No, that wouldn't work.

"All factions have acknowledged, miss En!" Yes Man interrupted her thinking. "They're moving as fast as they can. Our Brotherhood friends have almost arrived at their destination, but the Great Khans will still take some time. There was some misunderstanding with meeting your friend Regis."

En sighed angrily and rolled her eyes. "How god damn hard is it to meet your damn vice-president at the sharecropper farms and then just move towards the Dam?"

"Miss En, they suffered a delay, but they'll still arrive before you do. You'll get there last."

Oh. Hm. Good thing the Khans hadn't heard her rail. "I don't suppose you could tell them to go on ahead without waiting for me?"

"I'd love to! They would be very unlikely to go along with that plan, miss En, and merely suggesting it would probably bruise confidence, but sure!"

She knew that, but she wanted to hear what the bot had to say. And apart from its inability to refuse, its answer was perfect.

"No, it's alright, I'll get a move on. Set the securitrons to ten kliks per hour."

"Understood, miss En. Nevermind that you'll arrive there tired and in no condition to fight."

"I'm not gonna fight," En said, breaking into a jog, the garand on her back bouncing painfully. She had no idea how long she'd be able to keep this up, but for what it was worth, arriving there panting and sweating would probably do a good job convincing the other leaders that she was perfectly prepared to throw her lot in with them. "I need to get there as soon as possible. Every delay means more dead."

She wished she could run faster, but she had a pack full of junk and a big-ass rifle on her back. Going any faster would be pointless: it was no good to run herself tired and then crash to the ground halfway there.

"INCREASED HEART RATE AND BREATHING DETECTED DUE TO FATIGUE. SECURITRONS AREN'T WEIGHTED DOWN BY BACKPACKS. JUST THOUGHT I'D PASS IT ALONG."

Shit yes, of course. "Ah! Right, thanks Stel! Yes Man, stop the trons for a sec."

"GLAD TO HELP."

The bots all rolled to a standstill. En took off her pack and draped it over the robotic shoulders of the last securitron, the only one that didn't have a partner. Then she strapped her rifle onto it. Oh yeah, that meant a lot less weight. "Okay Yes Man, let's get moving again. Twelve kliks per hour should be possible."

No sooner said than done, and the robots resumed rolling, En running next to them. That'd shorten the travel time by a bit.

"Brotherhood has arrived," Yes Man informed her.

"Okay," she panted, running along with her little army. She kept running, and running, her side burning and the acidosis in her muscles clearly making itself felt. Stel had already turned off the heating, because En was doing a great job heating herself up all on her own. The sun was almost up, and then Stel would probably have to activate her cooling mechanism.

"Great Khans have arrived."

"Oh... kay..." She checked her pip-boy. She was almost there too. Just had to crest this hill and...

There they were. More than she'd dared to hope. They weren't exactly co-mingling like good buddies, but they weren't killing each other, so far. The Khans numbered about thirty, and the Brotherhood had around twenty people, all in power armour. They'd give the Legion a good run for their money. Legionaries were expendable, even though they were many in number, and the fact that her force was outnumbered wouldn't necessarily mean they were weaker. She wasn't sure how the Khans would measure up against the Legion, but no way a single Khan would go down without drubbing at least three legionaries. Defenders always had the advantage, so they said.

She slowed her pace, allowing the securitron army to roll on ahead, and walked down the hill, catching her breath. A man wearing a horned helmet, and one dressed in power armour but without a helmet came towards her.

"Huh... huh... hey," En said, still out of breath. "Had to... had to run to... get here in time."

The man in power armour was the new Elder, Hardin. The man with the embarrassing comb-over. "Twenty one securitrons. Not exactly an unstoppable force."

"I think... I think it's more important... that they're an immovable object... right now," En panted.

"Point taken." Man, this guy was sour.

Papa Khan, on the other hand, was a bit less businesslike. "What are you so out of breath for? I'd think our great triumphant in the Pit of Trials wouldn't be tired from a little run," he laughed, a broad grin on his face. Kicking Karl's ass sure had done wonders for the man's respect toward her.

"Hey man..." En breathed, standing half bent-over. "That was some serious running back there."

"Your A.I. informed us the Legion will arrive sooner than expected," Hardin said flatly. "We have no time to waste."

"Pft," Papa Khan blew. "Let the NCR take the first punches. They fucking deserve every one."

"I'd be inclined to agree," Hardin said, "if such a view wasn't incredibly short-sighted. We need to rejoin NCR forces before they're wiped out. If we arrive too late, the Legion will simply pick us off. Either we rejoin the NCR while it's still at fighting strength, or we might as well commit suicide." Sourly, he added, "And I could have done that from the comfort of my home."

"Okay," En said, "Let's go. Yes Man, put the bots in motion."

"Sure thing, miss En."

"When we reach our destination, I want the bots to go first. Keep human casualties to an absolute minimum." She handed out the radios to both bosses.

"As you wish, though it demonstrates very little regard for the integrity of my robotic brothers."

En couldn't tell if the robot was serious or joking. "That's right, humanity first."

"Understood, miss En. I'm obeying your order like a three-headed dog."

Both groups fell in line behind their leaders, and off they went. The Khans walked at a considerable distance from the Brotherhood, but these two factions had never been at war, so they wouldn't be inclined to tear each other limb from limb. Some icy mistrust wasn't that bad.

"Hey, En."

The voice was definitely familiar, but the face was obscured by a power armoured helmet. "Hello Veronica, nice to see you again." A massive power fist was attached to her arm. That's right, Veronica was Garland's go-to people puncher.

"You just saw me last night, silly."

En grinned. "I mean, in the flesh." It _was_ nice to see her. There was at least somebody familiar between all these unknowns and robots. The conversation last night had gone on for a while. En had told her everything. What Garland had done, and what had been done to Garland. And Cass. Then she'd told her about Melissa, both of them crying a few dignified tears at telling and hearing it.

"A lot of Legion bastards are gonna die today," Veronica said fiercely. Her balled power fist reinforced the point.

"As long as you don't die, okay?" En said. "Lost too many people already."

"I'll be fine. You keep your head on your shoulders too, alright?"

"I have no intention of dying. Still got a boy I gotta kiss back home."

She could hear Veronica's grin in her voice. "Good on you. But hey, I can't talk too long. Hardin doesn't like it when we break protocol. You guys are the leaders so you should be talking to each other, not me. But right now, it's good that he's Elder. McNamara's extremely intelligent, but Hardass Hardin's seen more battle than half the chapter combined. He'll know exactly what to do."

"Oh. Okay. I'll see you after this is over, right?"

"You betchyer underdeveloped ass."

"Oh, hey, by the way?"

"Mm?"

"What was the whole business with that other Elder?"

Veronica quickly shot a glance to Hardin, then said, "It was something we'd found out when I was still in Garland's group. He and I did some research and stumbled across a grave breach of procedure McNamara had committed. Garland must have... given that information to Hardin somehow, and for some reason, and Hardin saw his chance when McNamara refused to work with you to kick the Legion's ass. So we stepped up."

"I saw him get arrested. They didn't... do anything bad to him, did they?"

Veronica laughed. "Oh heavens no, I'd never have allowed that. I've known McNamara since I was a kid, and apart from being an isolationist idiot, he's almost like a father to me. No, no, they just busted him down to Knight for the time being. He'll probably be back to Head Paladin within a year, and he'll be gunning for Hardin's title again a year later."

"Okay, that's... a relief."

"Yeah, no, I'd never have stood by Hardin if it meant getting Nolan jailed or executed or anything. He just got demoted for a while."

"Good."

"Uh oh. Hardin's givin' me the eye. He specifically said no fraternizing. I gotta fall in line. Talk to you later, hun."

"Yep, you too. Power armour suits you by the way."

"Meh, it makes my butt look fat. Later!"

With that, she hustled back to the Brotherhood line and fell in.

"Miss En, got some priority information."

"Shoot."

"The Legion has arrived at the Dam." Oh, crap, already? "They've started their assault. Garrison is unlikely to hold the Dam for long."

She saw both Hardin's and Papa's heads turn towards her.

"Okay, how far's the NCR army?"

"No information available at this point."

The garrison at Hoover Dam had doubtless raised the alarm when they'd seen the Legion on approach, and the NCR army would have (hopefully) been dispatched to defend. They'd never make it in time now, though. Dammit, they should have notified the NCR earlier. Damn Hardin and his pragmatism. At least Yes Man had been clever enough to suggest that they notify the NCR at Hoover Dam that unexpected help was on the way, so there wouldn't be a massive clusterfuck of friendly fire when they arrived.

"We gotta move," she said to the radio, knowing Papa and Hardin would hear too.

"Alright guys," she heard Papa Khan bellow. "Hustle! Earn your damn patches!"

The Brotherhood guys also broke into some semblance of a jog, though with the power armour they wore, it was significantly more difficult.

"E.T.A. half an hour," Yes Man informed En.

"Alright, let's hope we're in time."

They moved as fast as they could, but after twenty minutes, when they could already hear the fire and the explosions, Yes Man's voice again came through Stel's earpiece. "NCR garrison at the Dam has been overrun. Survivors have retreated to Boulder City." Oh man, they were too late. But there was one relief. "NCR army has arrived, and is helping survivors consolidate their position. Legion vastly outnumbers NCR forces but is making no headway so far."

They could see Boulder City now, and indeed, the fighting was still going on, the vista looking like a scene from Hell. Black smoke rose from the ruins of the city, and every few seconds, an explosion blew chunks of masonry off a ruin. Tracer rounds zipped through the air, and the sound of heavy machine guns went on without stopping.

"Yes Man," En shouted over the noise as they got closer. "Get the Securitrons to engage right away. Have them set themselves up as cover for NCR soldiers."

"Understood. They will only be protected from small arms fire though, miss En."

"I know but it's all we can do. I'll negotiate with the leaders in the meantime."

"Use of explosive weaponry authorized?"

"Against the damn Legion?" En shouted back, her voice almost drowned out by the shooting. "It's authorized and then some!"

The securitrons rolled towards the ruins of Boulder City, past the monument for the fallen NCR soldiers, and just rolled right into the fray, past the bewildered NCR troopers huddled behind the rubble, trying to get a shot off. En saw the sparks fly off the bots as they were hit by the Legion's bullets, and then they were obscured from view, but she could hear the _whoosh_ of their rocket launchers and the explosions shortly after. Go, bots!

"Alright, Paladins. Take position behind the NCR line, shoot everything that wears red," Hardin bellowed. "NCR won't return fire if they see you're blowing away the legionaries that have been killing their men. Remember, there's a lot of them, so one shot, one kill!"

"For the Brotherhood," one of the Paladins (probably the new Head Paladin) shouted at his companions, and they ran off, taking their positions.

"Same goes for you sorry lot," Papa Khan snarled, not to be outdone. "Let those guns rip!"

The Khans roared and charged towards the barricades, taking no heed of the bullets flying. Two of them were already shot dead by stray shots, knocked flat as the blood flew from their bodies, and En had to turn her eyes away.

"Come on," Hardin shouted at her. "NCR command's set up on this balcony."

She followed her 'allies' up the stairs, set against the back wall of a mostly-intact house. The guard immediately trained his weapon on them. "Who are – "

"Out of the way, soldier," Hardin commanded, sounding only slightly bothered. "We're here to speak to NCR command."

"Well, you can't just – "

"Don't make us get ugly with you, _boy_," Papa Khan snarled. "Out of the way or you'll be wearing your guts as a belt."

The soldier immediately lowered his weapon and let them through.

"Garters," En pointed out. "It's um, garters."

"I was bein' creative."

"Oh. Carry on."

They emerged on the balcony, overlooking Boulder City and the battlefield it had become. There were no explosives set now, no magic trick the NCR could pull out of their sleeve to trump the Legion. All they could do this time was stand and fight.

The road from the Dam ended smack dab into the square of Boulder City, and Legionaries poured into the town, crossing the Dam, only to be mowed down by NCR (and now Brotherhood, Khan and securitron) fire. The square was already littered with dead bodies, at least a hundred, but the men and women behind the barricades had suffered heavy losses too, and there were more NCR soldiers lying in a pool of blood than there were troopers still shooting. The influx of allied soldiers, however, seemed to have pushed the balance back. The Legionaries, so far, were unable to get a foothold. Part of the Legion had taken position behind the barricades, plinking at NCR soldiers from cover, and those were the dangerous ones, not the cannon fodder with machetes who ran straight into the open, and into NCR fire. Only thing truly dangerous about them was that they were a horrible drain on the defenders' ammo reserves.

"Brothers," Hardin commanded into his earwig. "Use explosive weapons on the enemy entrenched positions."

En saw a legionary run through the hail of fire to reach the barricade, and trying to leap over it, his machete high. A power armoured figure sprang to its feet and whacked the legionary back, sending him sprawling into the square, his face smashed. En had a pretty good idea who the power fisted people puncher was. Go Veronica.

When she heard Hardin's voice, the NCR commander whirled around, surprise on her face. "Who are you – what – what is – "

"No stammering," Hardin cut her off. "We're here to help, as incredulous as it may sound." From his tone of voice, it sounded pretty incredulous to him too.

As En watched, smoke trails cut through the air, the rockets making them smashing into the Legion's positions, blasting apart the rubble they'd hid behind, and tearing legionaries to bloody shreds.

"Wha... the Brotherhood? And the Khans? I mean, securitrons, that's one thing, but do you expect me to believe – "

"You don't believe us, we turn around and march back to Red Rock, you god damn babyface," Papa Khan spat. "And I'm not lettin' a single more of my guys die here!"

"No, no," the NCR commander quickly said, raising her hands. "We're... grateful for your help, but... it's... I need a moment to take it all in."

The securitrons' rocket launchers had reloaded, and more rockets flew at the Legionaries, impacting right into the crowd, sending burning chunks of legionary sailing through the air.

"Legion forces are retreating," Yes Man announced.

"They've had enough for now," En told the others. "Bet they weren't expecting that, haha! Victory!"

"It's a strategic retreat, child," Hardin immediately dashed her hopes. "There's more where that came from, on the other side of the Dam. Much more."

"Yes, they're..." the NCR commander agreed, still getting over her initial shock. Her name tag read COL. MOORE. "They hadn't expected explosive ordnance. But this was only the advance guard, they're just regrouping and changing tactics. There's... there's more coming."

"Means we've got some time to negotiate," Papa Khan said. "About the price of our help, and your lives."

"Whoa, whoa," the woman protested. She was awfully young for a commander, her sand-coloured, shoulder-length hair parted to one side and tied back behind her head. "I'm really grateful for your help, even though I have no idea why you're here, but... I don't have the authority to negotiate – "

"Are you in charge here, colonel?" Hardin said harshly.

"Well, yes, but – "

"Then the lives of these people are in your hands. We _negotiate_."

"Look," the woman said, "I care about these people down there. And I'd agree to every damn demand you'd make if it meant sparing their lives, but... negotiating peace between factions at war is high treason. I just don't have the _power_."

"These guys don't care about high treason," En said, pointing at the Dam. "When they break through, they'll do much worse things to you than the NCR possibly could. I united these people against the Legion, they're risking their lives for you, for us, for all the Mojave. This is bigger than all of us. Fuck politics right now. Right now, we're _all_ NCR. And we're _all_ Brotherhood. And we're _all_ Great Khans."

"I beg to differ," Hardin said sourly, "but the situation is unchanged. If the Legion breaks through, every single NCR citizen is lost. This is your main force, losing it would mean you'd have no more striking power against the Legion. They'd run over your lands unimpeded. You know what this would mean for your citizens."

"And I don't give a shit that they burn all your houses down and slaughter all your children," Papa barked, "but if the NCR goes down, so do the Khans. I'm willing to fucking fight next to the people who killed our women and children to stop this damn legion. And now you're not willing to sign a list of demands?"

"They're not even _demands_," Hardin said. "They're lawful claims. To a cease-fire, to reparations, to return of looted assets. Equal distribution of the power generated by the Hoover Dam. Child, show them the list."

En resented being called child, but she produced the list from her backpack. "I uh... I really hope you'll sign this. You'll kill us all if you don't."

The commander suddenly looked ten years older, taking the list and looking it over. "...alright. I'll sign. But if general Oliver – "

"Fuck him," Papa Khan said. "And fuck politics. It's us against the Legion now. If your murderin' general Oliver has even a shred of decency, he'll honour the sacrifice we make, despite your filthy crimes, and not second-guess you."

"Tell him that." The colonel signed the list, tears in her eyes. "I'll get executed for this."

"Can we add 'don't execute Colonel Moore' to the list?" En quipped.

"No jokes, child," Hardin quickly admonished her.

"I'm not a child, and this will go a whole lot better if we don't all talk like we've eaten a crate of lemons."

Hardin didn't dignify it with a response. "You did the right thing, colonel. No matter the consequences. Now, before the Legion regroups and returns, we must discuss strategy."

"Yes. We do," the woman said, still defeated. Then, to her aide, "Lieutenant. Post guards and take the time to get the wounded to the field hospital. Notify me _immediately_ if there is Legion activity."

"Yes, colonel."

"Alright. Uh... we set up something resembling a war room back here." She led them to the back of the house. All it had was a few chairs and a table, and an old laminated map of the area. She threw herself down on a chair. "We weren't able to bring back a lot of things when we abandoned the Dam." She just thought of something. "Forget the list, I'll get shot for abandoning the Dam too."

"You won't get shot, okay?" En said. It was an empty promise, but it was better than nothing.

"You abandoned the Dam?" Hardin asked, not sitting down. The chair would lose the battle against his power armour. "So you're the Dam commander? Where's the commander of the Army then?"

"Got shot in the face when he ran to our retreating troops, trying to get them to retake the Dam." She sighed and slumped in her chair. "Wasn't a stray bullet, but a sniper round. Legion's learned from our tactics. Uses them against us.

"Good that you mention it," Hardin said. "Paladin Hyong," he spoke in his earpiece. "Set up transparishields on this balcony." He didn't wait for the answer. "Should protect us against all small arms and sniper fire."

Moore only nodded. "Good, I guess."

"Now then," Hardin said. "Tactics." He showed none of the despair that had Colonel Moore in its grip. Papa Khan just stood there with his arms crossed, frowning at everything.

"The Legion will likely resort to head-on tactics. Distract us with fodder." He leaned over the table and began pointing at the map, Moore following but not very concentrated, and Papa Khan frowning again, this time at the table. "They'll be coming from the same place, throwing bodies at us until our ammunition is depleted." He pointed at the entrance to the square. "We'll need to hold them back and conserve ammunition. That means only deploying ordnance when they can inflict maximum casualties."

"Uh huh," the NCR colonel only said.

"I assume you only have access to small-arms fire?"

"Pretty much, uh... some LMGs, a grenade or two, but no long range explosives or energy weapons."

"Then we'll provide that part. When the next attack hits, we need everyone in place. Brotherhood Paladins will have to form the backline to your troops. Our weapons have greater reach, stopping power and accuracy."

"Should have seen that coming."

"It's sensible strategy. You there, Khan?"

Papa didn't respond, just continued glaring.

"Small arms only?"

"Yeah. Mostly up close and personal stuff though."

"Very well. We'll need you on the barricades. Keep your heads down unless you've got a shot, and buttress any legionaries who make it through. NCR soldiers are vulnerable, and my Paladins are equipped for long-range engagements. Neither will survive long if caught in melee."

"We'll do our part, don't you worry. I don't recall anyone puttin' _you_ in charge, though."

Hardin stood upright again, impressive in his heavy power armour. "Khan, I have seven years of ground combat and eighteen years of battle command under my belt. I fought in the Enclave Roundup, which was much less of a mop-up operation than the name suggests. I led the attack on the Mariposa base when it was opened. I've fought Enclave soldiers, super mutants, centaurs, floaters, deathclaws, things you haven't even heard of, and I led men into battle against them even more often. And this battle will test my experience to the very _limit_. Unless you can present similar credentials, I suggest you work with me here."

That, thankfully, was enough to shut Papa up, apart from a mumbled, "god damn techno fascists."

"Everyone has his part to play in this," Hardin merely said.

"So uh," En asked. "What's my part then?"

"I need you to make sure your securitrons don't squander too many rockets on low-priority targets. How many do they have?"

"Uh... Yes Man?"

"Three rockets each, miss En!"

"There you go."

Hardin rubbed his chin. "Not a lot, but not disastrously few either. How many already spent?"

"Uh, one per, I think. No, two."

"Right. Ideally, your securitrons shouldn't deploy ordnance until I give the signal. Would that work for you?" For all his domineering, he was at least courteous enough to ask.

"Sure," En said with a shrug. "I'm just here to keep loss of life to a minimum, not to be in charge."

"Good. In the meantime, I see you brought a powder-burner. Will you deploy as well?"

"I uh... thought I might plink at some of them from far away, yeah. Preferably the ones with the most feathers on their hats. Or in their butts."

"I'd... be careful if I were you," Colonel Moore said, still looking defeated. "The Legion's using the same tactic now, sniping at leaders and key targets."

En chuckled, despite her unease. "Yeah, but I don't look like a leader, so they probably won't want to waste a bullet on me."

"Still," Hardin said, bent over the map again and looking up at her. "Beware counter-snipers. Legion probably won't have much in the way of accurate long-range weaponry, but they're bound to have a few marksmen. Probably the ones with more than one brain cell."

En nodded. "I'll be careful. I didn't come all this way to die."

"We need to start giving out orders. Colonel, we'll need your squad commanders. As for the Khans...?"

"I'll talk to 'em. We know what we gotta go," Papa Khan merely said, stomping out of the room. The man was clearly not one for tactics. Or sharing a room with NCR soldiers.

"Paladin Hyong." Silence. "I need you in the war room."

"What do I do?" En asked.

"Just stay here for now. Listen to the strategy and the instructions, so we all know what to do when the Legion's got another wave ready."

The room filled up with NCR officers, and a few moments later, a power-armoured brotherhood paladin joined the gathering. Colonel Moore had gotten her spirit back a little, and she instructed each of the squads where to take position and what to do. From what En gathered, the NCR soldiers would mostly take up entrenched, defensive positions, conserving their ammo and firing from cover to avoid too many missed shots. The Brotherhood would fortify behind them, using their longer-range weapons to target Legion squad leaders. In the parts of the square without cover, En's securitrons would provide some, bolting themselves down and letting soldiers fire from behind them. It'd mean some of the trons would take a beating, but better them than actual living, breathing soldiers.

With this set-up they could probably secure a pretty comprehensive semi-circle in the square, meaning the Legion soldiers would have to run a terrible gauntlet before actually reaching the line, where the Great Khans waited for them, hunkered down, first shredding them with their submachine guns and shotguns and then, hopefully, beating them back in hand-to-hand combat.

Specialized squads would also be deployed. The First Recon, while loathed by the Khans, would take up position in the ruined building to En's right (it had once been a general store, it seemed), and do what En would be doing: sniping at key Legion personnel from afar. The Legion would probably be anticipating this strategy, but they'd still be somewhat vulnerable to it, since Legion coherence tended to fall apart without its leaders, no matter how prepared they were. An LMG squad had taken position in another ruin, on the right hand side of the square and closer to the action, and was ready to puree any Legionaries in sight. Hopefully, the withering hail from the LMGs would push the bulk of the Legionary forces to one side, where En's securitrons and the few Paladins armed with ordnance would be able to fire straight into the crowd for maximum damage.

Lastly, there were the NCR heavy troopers and the Rangers. The heavies wore something resembling power armour, looted from the bodies of fallen Paladins during the battle of Helios One, and for that reason, they would operate as far away from the Brotherhood as possible. They were supposed to give the armour back after the battle, thanks to the terms signed just now, but that didn't mean they weren't still wearing suits taken from dead Brotherhood soldiers. Letting them fight close together was a guarantee for infighting, and that was the last thing they needed. The Rangers were less hated, so they'd operate pretty much everywhere. Given their commando-style role, they would be mostly independent, flanking Legion formations to disrupt them or acting as engineers, setting up explosives and sabotaging enemy supply lines and access points. They'd have to do so without structurally damaging the Dam, which was a daunting task, to say the least.

The Legion had its own range of units, of course, and Colonel Moore explained those as well as she could. They'd have light infantry, armed with machetes and pistols. Those were the cannon fodder they'd already seen getting shredded in the square when they arrived. Heavier infantry would carry repeater rifles or submachine guns, and would be less eager to throw themselves into a lead-storm. Their limited-range weapons, compared to the NCR and especially the Brotherhood, would still require them to close to a range where they'd be vulnerable, and due to the explosives previously fired, there was very little cover for them to advance under. They were a bit more heavily armoured, but since the Legion operated under a high-expendability strategy, they'd still go down with relative ease.

The centurions, though, tended to wear salvaged armour, as heavy as they could find, and would take more than a few 5.56 rounds to lay low. Their biggest vulnerability, however, would be eagerly exploited by First Recon and hopefully En: they always wore open-faced helmets. Maybe to "honour" Roman tradition, or maybe to look as intimidating as possible, but they did. One shot to the face would take them out faster than ten shots to the body.

The Legion elites would probably be deployed toward the end of the battle. Wearing massive armour, they'd be very hard to eliminate, and as if that wasn't enough, they always carried a big, heavy shield in front of them, as tall as they were. The shield resisted just about all small-arms fire, Colonel Moore explained, and stood a good chance of even allowing its bearer to survive a direct hit from an explosive rocket. A phalanx of elites in turtle formation was often deployed when the battle went poorly, to turn the tide and shatter morale, inexorably advancing toward the enemy position while protected from all but the most grievous damage. From between the line of shields, one-handed submachine guns or heavy revolvers would eliminate defenders with surprising ease and stunning accuracy. Even worse, the occasional elite would be armed with a laser cannon or plasma defender. NCR soldiers with their distinct lack of damage-dealing potential, when faced with elites, usually had only one order: turn tail and run. Even with the Rangers and their armour-piercing projectiles present, the threat of the elites was very real. Even with the Brotherhood and the securitrons, since the elites typically took to the field when most, if not all, of the ordnance and energy cells were expended.

Then there were the special units. Thankfully, the Legion were not known for their use of explosive or energy weaponry, except for the occasional elite. Most had good old powder-burners, and by good old, Moore clearly meant just old. They had almost no access to high-powered ballistic weapons, though there was a considerable number of marksmen, typically armed with dangerous hunting or even sniper rifles, like the one that had done in the NCR Army commander. They'd be the most dangerous, and they were the main reason Hardin had had the transparishields erected on the balcony. It was almost certain that these marksmen would target leaders, and the ones on the balcony would be the first targets. Hardin quickly assured Moore that the transparishields would stop everything but a tank-mounted rail cannon. She didn't seem very convinced.

Other special Legion soldiers included the dreaded suicide commandos. They were exactly what the name suggested. The Legion didn't have a lot of access to ballistic explosives, but their plundering of a Colorado engineering depot had ensured a steady access to land mines. The suicide commandos would strap several of those to their bodies and simply charge at the defensive line, blowing themselves up when they were close enough and tearing as many defenders into bloody strips as possible. They were rarely deployed, usually as a desperate measure, since they were a serious threat to Legion personnel too. Not that the Legion cared about its soldiers, but it would still prefer not to blow them up if they could help it.

The praetorians were the last of the known special units, but they wouldn't be much of a threat, since they operated as personal guards to Legion command. So much the better though, because they were heavily armoured yet extremely fast, and highly skilled in close combat, made even more dangerous by the brutal power fists they carried, which could supposedly pulp a man in a single blow. They'd be a force to be reckoned with if the allies were ever able to counter the attack and attempt to drive the Legion back. But that was a concern for the future, if there even was one.

As it was now, they'd have to focus on blunting the Legion's attack, which would be impossible enough on its own. It meant beating the endless hordes of machete-wielding crazies back, while not getting worn down by the infantry's blunderbusses, taking care to stop kamikaze lunatics, while dodging sniper fire, and then saving enough heavy weapons to stand a chance against any elites that would deploy. Yay.

Still, Hardin was convinced they could do it, and everyone in the war room had no choice but to trust his conviction, feigned or otherwise.

Colonel Moore ended the preparations by telling everyone in the room, "Today, we forget the boundaries that separate us. No matter our goals, no matter our beliefs, today, only one thing matters: we are the last line between thousands of people, and certain death. Today, we crush the Legion."

There was no roar of determination, no applause of courage. All the men and women in the war room simply proceeded silently to their units to give out their orders, knowing what was about to happen, and what they were up against. The Legion outnumbered the defenders at least ten to one. They needed a miracle, and even that might not be enough.

En took position with the other commanders behind the transparishields on the balcony, looking out over the square. She stood between Colonel Moore and Elder Hardin, feeling out of place between those important people.

"We're just in time," Papa Khan grunted, standing next to Hardin, as far away from the NCR colonel as possible. "Looks like they're mountin' another attack."

"Indeed they are," Hardin agreed. "Squad leaders, prepare for engagement. Conserve your ammunition and focus on high-profile targets. We will not win this war by emptying our guns at their cannon fodder. The leaders are the primary targets." Something was said back. "No, ordnance only to be deployed by express order."

Colonel Moore was talking into her walkie-talkie as well. "Soldiers, we fight for every man, woman and child in the Mojave. Our primary objective is to hold the line. Do not let the Legion cross that square. We have to hold out until tomorrow afternoon, then reinforcements and supplies will arrive." Quietly, she told the other leaders, "not much, but every little bit counts."

Papa Khan said nothing. His boys knew what to do.

"Yes Man," En said to the radio. "I'll put you in charge of the securitrons. No explosives unless by my order though. Can you handle that?"

"I can certainly handle doing all menial tasks while not making the big decisions."

"Good."

There was movement across the Dam, uncountable ant-like shapes getting ready to come across. It was still about a klik away, but En could already see that there were many. So god damn many. Probably more than they had bullets. "It's... a lot."

Hardin merely nodded, looking out at the Dam, his face stoic. "Quality over quantity, miss."

"Right." If only their quality had a big enough quantity of ammo. She looked out at the Dam again, and began to take off her leather jacket.

"Sweatin' bullets already?" Papa Khan asked with a grin.

"No. I'm gonna help a bit. Try and snipe at some bigwigs."

"Leaders lead, child." Hardin admonished. "It's not your job to fight on the field."

"Yes Man's handling the trons. I just can't stand around doing nothing."

"Very well. Try not to die."

"I'll do my best. Stel, you there?"

"ALWAYS HAVE BEEN."

"Good. I'm gonna try and snipe from stealth mode. Can you activate the stealth field every time I break cover?"

"I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT."

"Great. I'm gonna take the opportunity to move to that empty church tower over there. Once I'm there, I'll pop up to fire as often as I can. Get the stealth field activated when I do." There was no need to take off her leather pants, and just the stealth suit made her feel kinda naked, so she decided not to. "I'll see you when this wave's over?" she asked the other leaders.

"Take care, kid, okay?" Colonel Moore said, looking deeply concerned.

"Don't worry," Papa Khan laughed. "This fury beat the shit out of a Legion emissary in hand-to-hand combat. Takes more than the Legion army to kill her."

"Uh... yeah. Later."

With that, she left the command building and scooted toward the church tower, between the lines of the NCR and the Brotherhood, running past the NCR soldiers' backs. Huffing, she ran up the tower stairs, holding her Garand and her ammo bag. She wouldn't need more than that.

"This spot's taken, kid," a familiar voice said when she arrived at the top floor. A big bronze bell hung in the tower. Kneeling down behind the balustrade, and looking out over the square, sat Boone the creepy sniper guy. "Though I s'pose there's room for one more."

"Uh, hi. I won't get in the way."

"Mm."

She kneeled down a few metres from Boone, and looked down. "They're almost here." The Legion army had begun to cross the Dam. They were about five hundred metres away. She lowered her head again, sitting with her back against her cover.

"M-hm. This is just the meat for the grinder," the sniper said in his husky, creepy voice. "Not worth wasting ammo on."

"Even the centurions?"

"They won't be on point in this wave. Probably following behind. As in, over there." With that, Boone levelled his sniper rifle, took aim and _bang_! fired over the balustrade. "One less," he simply said.

"Okay Stel. You ready?"

"I WAS BUILT READY."

The roars came from below, washing up like a powerful upward force that felt like it would lift En off her feet and propel her up to the sky. Then came the gunfire, a deafening cacophony of blasts, bangs and blams. The screams followed shortly after, all the sound mixing together to a horrible pandemonium.

En had decided not to look at the bodies that lay on the ground. Only those that stood, mattered. "Okay Stel, go."

"ACTIVATING STEALTH FIELD."

Her rifle was still visible, but it was far less conspicuous than her entire upper torso would be. She looked through the sights, sweeping them across the stampede of Legion soldiers, and saw a plumed helmet. "For Melissa, Meyers, and I guess Garland and Cass too," she muttered. "Each and every bullet."

She squeezed the trigger, the rifle discharged with a _bang_ even louder than the noise below her, and her bullet exploded the centurion's face, sending his brains splattering in the faces of his soldiers. Her injured hand hurt like Hell, but this was no time to be a crybaby.

A shot glanced off the balustrade and En reflexively ducked down again.

"Don't flinch," Boone merely said, somehow still audible above the cacophony of war. "Most shots are strays, and even the ones they aimed here probably won't hit you."

"Probably."

"No war without risk."

Wasn't that the truth. En popped up again, feeling the prickle of the stealth field on her skin, and took another centurion in her sights, this one completely out in the open, shouting orders at the soldiers ahead of him. But just as she was about to fire, Boone's rifle banged, and the centurion in her sight was knocked over, his brain stem destroyed.

"Too slow," Boone merely said, taking aim again.

Another bullet glanced off the balustrade, and as she ducked, she heard the pow-pow-pow of more rounds hitting her cover. Those weren't stray shots, someone had called them out. Another bang from Boone's rifle, and he calmly said, "Taken care of."

She popped up again, taking aim at the throng of Legionaries, and found a centurion with no body armour, plugging him with a certain hand, exploding his foul heart. Briefly, she thought she saw a Legionary adorned with a wolf's head, but before she could take aim, he was gone again.

An explosion rocked the tower, sending up a black smoke cloud in front of Boone and En. Hardin had apparently given the order to fire a rocket. En popped up for a quick look, and near the foot of the tower, she saw nothing but red – red cloth, red blood, and red insides. Her stomach heaved at the sight.

Next to her, Boone was trying to take aim. "Can't see with this damn smoke." But then his eyes widened. "On the ground, now!"

Reflexively, En did as she was told, laying flat, and this response saved her life, fragments of masonry falling on her head and back as sustained automatic fire reduced the balustrade of the tower to dust.

"Can't stay here," Boone remarked dryly. "They're too close. We're too vulnerable at this distance." He crawled to the stairs and ran down, and En did the same, their boots hammering on the wooden stairs. Bullets impacted the outer wall, but it was solid brick, and nothing got through.

When they came out, the NCR line was slowly falling back, firing at the Legion as it did. The smoke meant En couldn't see further than ten metres, but all around her, NCR soldiers were losing ground. She took cover behind the church tower.

"Colonel Moore!" En shouted in the radio. "Your soldiers are breaking at the west side, near the church!" Boone simply ran off, probably to find a new perch.

"They're breaking everywhere," Moore yelled back. "We can't hold this line!"

A laser beam zapped past her and disappeared into the smoke, hopefully to take down another legionary.

"Order's been given to fall back to the second perimeter," Hardin said calmly. "It's an organised retreat, don't panic."

Don't panic, don't panic, easy for him to say. "Need any explosives?" En shouted in her walkie-talkie.

"Two or three hits a hundred metres forward of your position would be handy."

"Yes Man, you heard the man!"

"Sure did!"

No sooner than Yes Man replied, did three rockets whoosh from one side of the battlefield to the other, tearing the Legion apart in three deafening explosions.

The NCR soldiers had fallen back, and now the Khans, who formed the forward line, were running past her, hopefully participating in the tactical retreat rather than simply being routed.

"Move, kid!" one of the Khans shouted at her as he ran. "Legion's hot on our heels."

Shit, he was right! She could see shapes coming towards her through the smoke. She broke into a run, following the Khans back to the second perimeter. Laser and plasma blasts zipped past her, the Brotherhood covering the retreat.

Just as she emerged from the smoke without incident, her foot got snagged behind a red, stringy mess that had once been the body of an NCR soldier, and she stumbled, losing her balance. Her shoulder hit a wall and she lost her footing, going to one knee. Before she could start running again, one of the legionaries broke through the Brotherhood's fire and rushed her, his machete held high. En threw herself to one side, the machete clanging off the asphalt she'd laid on a fraction of a second ago, and she kicked out, a forward kick getting the legionary straight into the knee, snapping it with an inaudible crunch. The soldier shrieked, but before he hit the ground, a bullet caught him in the throat. Another legionary leapt out of the smoke, again holding his machete high.

Before the weapon came down, En heard a man shout, "Eat this, motherfucker!"

The Khan's massive sledgehammer made a wide arc, and hit the legionary in the face, crushing his skull without effort, the bone clapping inward, making a dent in his face so deep the force expelled his brain out of the back of his head and even sent a jet of blood spurting out of both his ears. The legionary was lifted off his feet, his face crushed inward, teeth flying from the ruin. One eyeball had been smashed out and hung from the optic nerve, trailing behind the destroyed head as the legionary fell.

En scampered backwards, and the Khan's hand closed around her upper arm, pulling her up. The arm that gabbed her had a tattoo of a crow and a drop of blood. "You alright? Come on."

They ran again, to the second perimeter, bullets whizzing past them as they did. A Brotherhood paladin stood upright, lifted his massive gatling laser, and spewed red hot death, the blasts going past them and cutting down the legionaries running after them.

En and the Khan leapt over the barricade, hunkering down behind it. Next to her, an NCR soldier's helmet flew off, the top of his head reduced to red and yellow goop. En tried not to look.

"Thanks," she said to the Khan. He merely nodded and ran, bent over, to join his brothers.

She was out of the smoke now, and she could see how things were.

Dead bodies lay everywhere, some of them clearly distinguishable from their armour, others torn apart beyond recognition. There was a disheartening number of beige NCR armour among the dead, several black leather jackets, but not a single suit of power armour so far. One securitron had been completely picked apart by gunfire, its electronics smashed out of its hull, chips and wires sprayed all over the remains of the legionaries around it. Of another securitron, En only saw the single wheel still standing, a thin plume of smoke rising up from the severed axle. It would be comical if not for the circumstances. Two more lay on their sides a ways further.

The entire square was covered in blood and bodies, and on the far side, where the legionaries attacked from, the bodies had even started to pile up, and the attacking legionaries had to run, and sometimes even climb, over the shredded carcasses of their own kin to join the attack.

What a mad world this was.

She was torn from her thoughts and thrown back into the reality of the situation as a bullet clanged off the steel reinforcement she was hiding behind. All the noise and death came rushing back, and she was in the middle of this horrible slaughter again.

"Stel, ready?"

"YES."

She popped up, took aim, and shot another centurion, sending him down in a spray of blood and brains.

Above her head, a bullet whizzed past, catching a charging legionary in the heart.

"Legion forces are retreating!" Colonel Moore shouted into the radio. Oh thank God. En sat down, closed her eyes and leaned against the barricade, holding her rifle tightly.

"Miss?" a distorted voice said. It was the paladin who'd fired the gatling laser. "You're wanted in the command room."

"Uh... right."

She stood up, but as she did, shakes went through her muscles and her legs gave out. She suddenly had such a massive headache.

The power armoured gauntlet caught her by the arm and held her up. "You alright, miss?"

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Wait. No I'm not." Her stomach heaved and she puked out the cereal bar she'd eaten an hour ago, sending it splattering onto the stones in a light brown puddle. Some of it spattered on the paladin's boots, but he bore the indignity in silence. En noticed the spatter and could do nothing more than sheepishly say, "At... at least I didn't shit my pants, huh?"

"It's alright. Will you be able to walk?"

"I th... think so," En said, still shaking. It was probably the adrenaline that took its toll now.

"WOULD YOU LIKE A TRANQUILLIZER?"

"No, Stel. Only when I ask."

"OKAY."

She said thanks to the paladin and trudged back to the command room, trying as hard as she could to ignore the human remains around her, some more shredded than others. How many people had died here today? Not counting the Legion, they obviously weren't people, but _real_ people? People with homes and families? Just thinking about it made her want to sit down and never get up again.

"There you are," Hardin said flatly as she made it back into the war room. "Legion's fallen back, regrouping for another assault."

"We're guessing half their force is used up by now," Moore said. "Though... we're being optimistic."

"Losses on our side have been considerable," Hardin added. Figured he'd use a sterile word like 'considerable'. "At least half the NCR force is incapacitated", again the businesslike choice of words, "the Great Khans retain about three-fifth of their original number."

"Not a single dead Brotherhood member though," Moore said with a glare at Hardin. "More suspicious minds might think that our 'ally' is holding his forces in reserve and letting us take all the bullets."

"More tactically aware minds would think that Brotherhood paladins' superior range and firepower makes it logical for them to support the forward lines from a more remote position," Hardin countered. "Our technological advantage is crucial to winning this war, colonel."

"Really?" Moore said back, crossing her arms. "You'd think that after Helios One, you'd realize that flashy guns and shiny power armour don't amount to much when your enemies outnumber you twenty-to-one."

En half-expected a fit of flying rage, but Hardin simply said, "Oh believe me, colonel, it was a lesson I knew long before Helios One, and my predecessor was foolish to underestimate your numbers. Don't count on me to make the same mistake in any future engagements."

Moore's eyes narrowed. "That a threat?"

Hardin let out a weary, condescending sigh. "We just forced you to sign a peace treaty, colonel. But if you find it appropriate to flex your muscles, I respond in kind."

"Kids, please," En said. "Let's focus on our original goal of booting those Legion bastards across the Dam."

Moore stood glaring at Hardin for a moment longer, but then she said, "Fine. Same tactic as before? NCR soldiers as meat shields for the Brotherhood?"

"I resent your choice of words," Hardin said, "but yes. It's the only tactic we can resort to for now. We can shift to the offensive if we weather one or two more waves."

"And we still have actual _people_ left," Moore added. "They'll wear us down faster than us them."

"Can your Rangers force anything?" Hardin asked.

"On their own? No. They've got a few plasma mines but they can't place them. Shame, they'd do a whole lot of damage."

"Shame indeed. They'd get shot before being able to place those mines, though, like you say."

"I can do it," En said.

"Our Rangers wear poly-alloy armour, miss," Colonel Moore explained patiently. "And even they wouldn't last long enough to deploy even a single mine, let alone make it back."

"Just let them give me the mines and tell me how to place them. I'll be perfectly safe."

"And what would your plan be, child?" Hardin asked, annoyed. "Cartwheel out of the way of the bullets?"

"_No_. And I'm not a child, I _told_ you." Hardin conceded the point with a raise of his hands. "I'll get those mines placed, so just give them to me instead of wasting time."

After a brief silence, and exchanged looks between the two commanders, Hardin sighed and nudged his head at En.

"Fine," Moore said. "But this is at your own risk."

"Yeah I said that already," En snapped. "But thanks for reminding me."

"The Rangers are holed up in the building west of here down. I'll radio the permission."

"Right."

En jogged to the other building while Stel, unable to contain its anticipation, chattered in her ear. "THIS IS OUR TIME TO SHINE RIGHT?"

"Yeah, or to be shot to shreds."

"I WON'T LET IT COME TO THAT."

"I'm sure the Legion feels completely powerless already."

"THEY CAN'T HIT WHAT THEY CAN'T SEE."

The suit had a point, but still. She'd only be _mostly_ invisible. Nobody would spot her unless they looked really, really hard, but all it took was one perceptive legionary with nothing better to do than scan the square for mysterious ripples in the air. There were always those types.

"You the kid Colonel Moore radioed about?" the dour-voiced Ranger guarding the building asked. The helmets they wore were completely different from the Brotherhood's, but they looked just as menacing and angry. En wondered why they didn't make happier-looking helmets. Might prevent a war or two.

"Yeah, that's me."

The ranger leaned in. "Kid, I know movies tell you that you have to seize your chance to be a hero, but what you're gonna try here is suicide."

En let out another impatient sigh. "Look, I'll be fine. I'm not some starry-eyed kid trying to copy 'the movies'. They won't even know I was there."

"Fine," the ranger said, stepping out of the way. "They're inside, enjoy."

Three more rangers, two male and one female, stood waiting, the mines laid out on the table between them. En could feel their condescending and minimalizing looks even if she couldn't see them. Without a word, she took the three mines, stacking them on top of each other.

"Don't you wanna know how to arm them?" the female ranger asked, her sneer almost oozing out of her helmet. _There goes another stupid kid about to get herself killed_, her tone said.

"No. I know how they work."

One of the male rangers sent her on her way with the encouraging words, "Have a nice death."

"Idiots," En muttered under her breath, the mines cradled in her arms. They weren't very big, not the bulky saucers that explosive landmines were, but rather the size of a grenade. They exploded in a superhot blast that sent searing hot fragments through the air, and the bodies of any bystanders, capable of punching through six or seven people in every direction. The death radius of those things was _massive_, but the problem was getting them planted. She gave them a good look-over and snorted when she saw the metal lip that stuck out of the mines, with written above it, "REMOVE TO ARM."

"Okay, Stel," En said quietly, leaning against the wall and looking out over the square. "I don't suppose you can make the mines invisible too?"

"I CAN IF YOU CARRY THEM INSIDE ME."

En made a face. "You want me to carry those little death machines in my _pants_?"

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO DO ANYTHING," the suit smirked back. "BUT IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THEM HIDDEN, THAT'S THE MOST EFFICIENT WAY."

She looked down at the mines in her hands. "I know I'm dead anyway if they go off, but somehow carrying them around in my britches seems... really really _really_ scary."

"IT'D BE JUST AS DESTRUCTIVE FOR ME AS IT WOULD BE FOR YOU."

She had to get over this. As crazy as the idea sounded, carrying them in her trousers would be the safest thing to do. "Fine. Explosive pantaloons it is then."

"WE'LL BE FINE AS LONG AS YOU DON'T ARM THEM."

"I'll try not to. And this way, I know what it feels like to have balls in my pants for a change." She ducked down behind a rock formation, pulled open the stealth suit, and after making sure no one was watching, she tucked the mines under her T-shirt. But wait. "Hey Stel?"

"YES?"

"How am I supposed to plant the damn things without being seen?"

"I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT YET."

"Me neither."

"JUST KEEP YOUR BACK TO THEM?"

Yeah. That'd be the only thing for it. "Ugh, I s'pose. Let's hope none of our friends will get panicky and fire away when he sees a strip of t-shirt appearing in mid-air."

"I'M SURE OUR ALLIES ARE NOTIFIED."

"Hope so."

She scooted as close to the square as she dared, running bent-over to stay in cover. There, she removed her pants and pulled the hood back over her face. "Okay, Stel, you ready?"

"I'M ALWAYS READY. BATTERIES AT EIGHTY-SIX PERCENT."

En's next question would have been how the batteries were, so that was well-anticipated by the suit. "Right thanks. Activate stealth mode."

"STEALTH MODE ACTIVATED. YOU ARE WEARING SHADOWS LIKE ARMOR."

How plastically worded. "Right, here goes."

This would either make her a modest hero, or get her torn into bloody shreds. Half-anticipating the bullets cutting through her head, chest, bowels and legs, she darted to the centre of the square, taking care to be as light of foot as possible, so as not to send too much dust puffing up. No shots came. She kneeled down in the centre of the square, feeling completely naked and vulnerable, and presented her back to the Dam, pulling open the Velcro at the front of the stealth suit. Carefully, she removed a mine from her t-shirt and pulled the metal lip. The soft beep the mine emitted sounded as loud as cannon fire.

Quickly, to avoid setting off her own mine, she scooted ten metres to the right and set another mine.

"BATTERIES AT SIXTY PERCENT."

This was going great. One more. She decided to risk it and darted a bit closer to the Dam, kneeling down and opening the stealth suit to set the third mine. This one would be poetic justice. A legionary centurion lay sprawled on the rubble, a massive hole in his chest, right at heart level. Fully aware of the symbolism, En planted the last mine into the hole and pulled the lip. Bastards would know what it was like to be blown up by a booby-trapped friend. Briefly, En realized she was in for a massive case of shell shock when she got the time to think, but she couldn't worry about that now. She'd deal with it after this was over. If she was even alive and not reduced to a pile of stinking, steaming guts like so many of her allies.

"LET'S NOT GET BLOWN TO BITS BY OUR OWN MINE."

Stel pulled En from her brief lethargy. "No, it'll be far more sporting to let the Legion kill us, you're right." She ran back to the barricades, the mine-setting job gone without a hitch. She pulled her pants and jacket back on and headed for the war room, marching proudly inside. "Three plasma mines, set. Expect flying bits of legionary during the next attack."

Even Hardin had to nod in approval. "Well done, miss." Miss, not child. Good. "Colonel Moore, have your Rangers verify that all three mines have gone off during the next wave. We don't want to step on our own mines if we shift to offense."

"I'm guessing the Legion will mount one more attack today. If we can beat that back, we'll be able to see another day," Moore said. "They'd be crazy to attack at night."

Hardin nodded. "Let's not forget they have days of forced marching behind them. Even murderous fanatics like the Legion need to rest."

"They have like, stimulants and stuff though," En said, "No?"

"Even then," Hardin pointed out. "Our paladins all have night vision built into their helmets. The darkness would hamper them and not us. They'd be crazy to attack now. Well, even crazier than they already are."

A distorted voice came out of Colonel Moore's radio. "Alright, understood. Be ready." She turned to the others and said, "Legion's mounting another attack."

"What," En asked, "they're just gonna do the same thing they tried before? Just throw bodies at us for a while and then retreat?"

Hardin shrugged. "They have reserves. They're expending all their low-level infantry so the elites can take to the field when we're adequately softened up. It's not a very thought-out strategy, but they have the luxury of not having to think their strategies through."

"Here they come," Moore said, looking out at the square through her binoculars. "Let's hope those mines take a lot of them down."

"They won't be expecting them, that's for sure," Hardin remarked.

Again, a massive throng of legionaries crossed the Dam, swarming like ants, running over the dead bodies of their comrades and the slaughtered NCR soldiers that had garrisoned the place. Here and there, sniper fire rang out, and En went to stand next to the transparishields, taking aim too. Every single one mattered at this point. Through her sights, all she could see was red and skin and armour as the Legion force surged across the Dam. Actually lining up a shot would be pointless in this throng, so she simply fired into the mass of skin and armour, not even checking her shots to see if they hit. With such a crowd, it was simply impossible to miss. She emptied her entire clip, and slapped another one of five in, emptying that as well.

"While my soldiers doubtless appreciate the help", Moore shouted at her over the noise that had now burst loose in all its hellish volume, "it's hard to give instructions or think clearly with all this noise in my ear."

En simply ignored her and reloaded the Garand.

Below the balcony, Hell had broken loose again. All guns were firing, and the legion forces were once again being decimated by allied fire. But even as its members fell in insane numbers, the throng managed to win ground, stomping over the carcasses of their fallen comrades. They were within firing range now too, and let loose at the defenders behind their fortifications, taking lives of their own. As En's vision briefly strayed downwards, she saw a legionary break through the barrage and run up to a reloading NCR soldier. He lifted her flailing body up by the hair and hacked her head off in two hard machete chops as the soldier squealed like a slaughtered pig, and held the head up like a trophy before he was cut in half by Papa Khan's axe. These people were insane. They didn't even care about staying alive, all they wanted was to kill. En set her teeth and shot five more of them, emptying her clip, oblivious to the stray bullets that thwocked into the balcony.

Those were her last five. The Garand was empty and all she could do now was watch from behind the transparishield as so many human beings destroyed each other. The fighting throng slowly became brighter and brighter, and the noise was gradually silenced, drowned out by a hard shrieking in her ears.

Oh shit, another one.

"Miss, are you alright?"

Far, far away, she heard the horrors of war unfold as her vision swung upward and she looked at the sky, uncaring and blue, before she was completely blinded by the whiteness.

Her vision returned slowly, as did the thunder and screams of war, and she found herself lying on the ground on the balcony, with Colonel Moore supporting her head.

"Kid, what was that?" she asked from millions of miles away.

"S... seizure," En slurred, feeling drool run down her chin. "I g... get th... them somet... imes."

"Christ. Can you get up?"

"In... a bit." Moore was still holding her, so En babbled, "Go on, leave... me I'll be... alright."

"Sure?"

"Yes, g... go lead your... troops."

One of the plasma mines went off in a loud, high-pitched, almost electronically sounding explosion. "Damn," she heard Hardin comment. "Let God sort 'em out."

En carefully got up, sitting on her backside. "Did... did it help?"

"Damn straight it did," Hardin said, without taking his eyes off the battlefield. Another high-pitched explosion sounded. "There goes the other one. I suppose it was a bit needless to tell your Rangers to count them. No one can miss those explosions."

En slowly got to her feet, supported by the colonel's aide, and looked out over the battlefield. The Legion had occupied almost the entire square now, with some particularly heedless souls already reaching the barricade, locked in melee with the remaining Khans. She thought she saw Regis split a legionary's skull down the middle, but she wasn't sure. Papa Khan was on the other side of the square, disembowelling a legionary with a slash of his massive axe.

The third plasma mine went off, sending chunks of legionary flying several metres high.

One of them, what looked like a severed, scorched arm, flew straight at the balcony, smacking into the transparishield with a loud _bonk_ and leaving a smear on the surface. En involuntarily flinched, but Moore and Hardin didn't move a muscle.

"The mines aren't enough," Moore said. "We can't hold them." Her voice said enough. She was slowly resigning to her own death.

"Not yet," Hardin said. "Miss, we'll need those last rockets fired. Tell your securitrons to aim them dead centre into the Legion's formation."

"Alright."

"Or what passes for a formation among their misbegotten kind at least," Hardin added sourly.

"Yes Man, you heard the Elder. Get it done." Several bullets twanged off the transparishields. The Legion were within striking distance and En didn't know how long those shields would hold. Hardin looked confident enough, but it might just be feigned to avoid panic.

"You've got it, miss En!"

Only four smoke trails cut through the air, and En realized that all but four of the securitrons had been destroyed already. This was worse than she'd thought.

The rockets impacted, cutting a whole number of legionaries apart, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Hardin," Moore said, her eyes desperate. "We can't hold them, can we?"

"Not holding them isn't an option, colonel," Hardin simply said back, but he too was now showing signs of nervousness, gnawing at his lower lip, his brow furrowed.

Tears stood in Moore's eyes, but they did not fall. "We need a miracle."

"I think..." Hardin admitted, his face also defeated, "that we shouldn't count on miracles. Our line will not hold longer than ten minutes. Then they'll break through and storm this building."

He turned to En and Moore. "I regret to say that... it's over. I'll leave the decision to you two. Noble suicide or take down as many as we can?"

En's heart sank. This couldn't be happening, not after all they'd been through. She saw her vision blur and her nostrils began to burn. How could it end like this? On a balcony with two strangers, forced to choose between shooting themselves and killing as many legionaries as they could before being torn apart. She'd never go home and see her mom and dad. Nobody would know what had happened to her, dead on a balcony near Hoover Dam, trying to save the world but ending as an unknown and unremembered body. She was so close! So close, dammit! She should have gone home! But what would the alternative have been then? Waiting for another week or two before the Legion came to New Arroyo and killed everyone? No, she'd fought the good fight. It had been all in vain, but she had. Nobody would even know that so many had given their lives to keep their loved ones safe. They would have been heroes of they'd pulled it off, but now they'd just be nameless corpses, trampled by the legion's sabot. It wasn't fair. It _wasn't fair._

"Don't cry, hun," Moore said, putting her arm over En's shoulder as the tears poured forth. "Whatever happens, we took a stand. We fought against the worst humanity has ever puked up, and nobody can change that. Right?"

Hardin nodded. "Right."

"I say we kill as many as we can," Moore said fiercely, her eyes now brimming with tears too. She pulled her side-arm, holding her other arm around En. "But sweetheart, I can... make it painless for you if you want me to."

"I... think that'll be best," En said, crying. "Sorry, but... I've been brave for so long. If it has to end, I'm... entitled to one... one cowardly choice."

"The line's not holding," Hardin said grimly. "Colonel, we best get ready for the last dance."

"And dance we will," Moore said, her desperation gone, its place now taken by the cold resignation to her imminent death. "Like my soldiers, I'll make them pay dearly for my life."

"I can't though," En cried. "I can't do this. I can't face what's about to happen. Please, colonel..."

"Cassandra."

"Cassandra... You have to kill me." Saying it just made it so much more real. There'd be no second chance. No starting over. It really was the end for her. There was still so much she'd wanted to do. "Please. Don't leave me for these animals." God this wasn't happening. It wasn't fair.

Moore nodded. "Alright. You've earned much more, but a painless sleep is all I can give." The side-arm went up, and En looked into the barrel of Moore's pistol. "Close your eyes. I promise, it won't hurt. And hey, _we_ know how brave you've been. How brave we've all been. No one will remember us, but we'll remember each other. Right?"

"Right." En said, crying more tears.

"Close your eyes, dear. It'll be over before you know it."

Before En could close her eyes, though, Hardin suddenly froze, his head cocked. "Let's... not do anything rash just yet."

"What?" Moore asked, lowering her side-arm.

"Something's coming," Hardin said, pointing at the sky. "No way it's a legion craft."

"Th... that's a vertibird," Moore breathed, dumbfounded.

"Yes it is. I don't know if it's good news but it definitely can't get any worse than it is now. That's an Enclave model," Hardin said. "But most of the Enclave's wiped out?"

En looked up at the sky too, and indeed, coming quickly closer was a vertibird. Clearly an Enclave model. There was one in New Arroyo like it too. The one that had once, long ago, taken the Statue Girl to her destination on the Enclave Oil Rig. She'd never returned but someone had written a book about everything that had happened. En doubted that anyone would write a book about her.

"I don't know why it's here, but – " Hardin began, but he was cut off by the vertibird's weapons going online, spewing white hot death down at the square, the bird's autocannons mowing down the legionaries in the square, chopping them up into strips of meat, almost obliterating the throng in the square. The vertibird's weapons kept firing, blasting autocannon rounds into the legion forces with such a high firing rate that the bullets looked like one white hot beam.

"I don't know about you, Hardin," Moore said, her face slack, "but that qualifies as a miracle for me."

"I think I'm ready to start believing in them now too," Hardin merely said.

The vertibird's autocannons kept cutting into the legion's main body, tearing the soldiers apart faster than the entire remaining allied force ever could. Some of the legionaries had gotten wise to the aircraft, and began firing wildly at it, only to be cut down as the stream of autocannon fire swept over them. The legionaries locked in melee with the allied defenders began to panic now as well, and the remaining Khans and NCR threw themselves at their attackers, cutting and stabbing them to death before they could run. The Brotherhood paladins weighed in too, pushing back the legionaries that had reached their position, and as En wiped her eyes and looked on at the miracle unfolding, she saw a paladin in power armour leaping over the barricade, pulping a legionary's head with her power fist and then punching right through the chest of another one, sending chunks of rib and tissue flying out where the fist emerged. She breathed a small sigh or relief when she realized that was Veronica, still alive and kicking. Well, punching.

The vertibird's ammo seemed exhausted, but that didn't stop it from giving the fleeing legionaries all it could. Two hatches opened in the sides, and two power armoured figures per side fired out of them, blasting the battlefield with green-hot fire.

"That's the Enclave alright," Hardin said. "Every man armed with plasma weaponry."

"I can't believe it..." Moore peeped, her eyes again full of tears, but this time of relief. And when she saw Moore's tears, En realized she was crying the same tears too.

The legion's assault was broken, their entire infantry force lying dead in the square, dismembered and torn to bits. But before she was able to breathe a sigh of relief, En saw the bodies behind the barricade. Not a single securitron still stood. There were almost no NCR soldiers left, between ten and twenty at maximum, and the Khans too had been all but slaughtered. She saw Papa Khan get to his feet and Regis helping them up, with three or four Khans still standing around them. Several power armoured figures lay dead on the field as well, and En counted roughly ten paladins still standing. All the rest dead, dead, dead.

Despite the miracle and the dwindling Legion numbers, they still had very little hope to survive the next, and probably final, assault.

Still, they lived. The sun was setting and the Legion probably wouldn't attack at night, especially after getting their butts so royally kicked by an unexpected vertibird. They might try some sneaky tactic, but no big assault would be forthcoming.

"We're alive," En told the other leaders. Well, she wasn't the leader of anything anymore. "We're alive, guys."

Moore smiled. "We are. I honestly thought this was it. Shit, to think I almost shot you."

Even Hardin managed a smile. "I don't know who those Enclave-looking types are, or who sent them, but they came not a Planck unit too soon."

"Sir, you can't come in here."

A scuffle came from the inside of the building, Moore's aide apparently refusing entry to someone.

"You blockhead, out of the way, I don't have time to lose!"

En knew that voice. "Wait, it's okay, I know him, you can let him in."

The lieutenant briefly shot a look at Moore, who nodded, and out to the balcony stormed Arcade Gannon, his white lab coat red with blood and his face beaming. "I told you it'd be worth it!"

"Wait," En asked, "you sent those guys?"

"Yeah! I can't explain because I need to go look after the wounded, but my dad was an Enclave soldier. I guess you could say I brought the band back together."

"Shit," En said, bursting into laughter. "These guys just saved our skins."

"Yup! Anyway, I gotta go now, but I told you it'd be worth it!"

En tried not to think of Melissa's death, and smiled back. "Well, you weren't kidding."

"I'll see you later!"

"See ya!"

He rushed back out of the building.

"A Followers doctor who called the Enclave to help," Hardin mused. "Strange times we live in."

"I'm not complaining," Moore said. "But we should occupy ourselves with the coming night."

"Indeed," Hardin said. "We'll need sentries. With what little men we have left, I suspect most of us will have to stay awake tonight, but we can't afford to be anything but vigilant. They won't attack at night but that doesn't mean they won't try it if they see we've nodded off."

Moore nodded. "Indeed. Let's see how many we have left and plan accordingly."

"Hey guys?" En asked. "Since I don't have any securitrons left to lead, do you still need me? I mean, in the war room and stuff?"

Hardin and Moore exchanged a glance, and Moore said, "You're welcome to stay if you want, but no, I guess you're not _necessary_ anymore. If you'd prefer to do something else, that's fine."

"I'm going to try and help... I don't know, somewhere," En said. "And maybe when the night falls, I can use this stealth suit for a thing or two."

"Oh yes," Hardin said. "I've been meaning to ask. This invisibility of yours, it's the suit you wear under those clothes?"

En grinned, "Yup."

"It's technology neither we nor the Enclave possess. I mean, we have stealth boys, but they're nowhere near as efficient and easy-to-use as your suit. I'd love to study that technology a bit more when this is over," he said.

En's grin widened. "Yeah I bet you would. Later!"

She went down the stairs and emerged on the ground floor. In the middle of the smoke, the blood and the misery. At her feet lay a fallen paladin, a smoking hole in his chest plate, and the rest of his suit riddled with dents.

"Sh... shoot me. Shoot me please," a fallen NCR trooper begged her. Her belly had been shot open and her bowels had fanned out of her body, laying to the left side of her, like ropy bloody tentacles.

"Hold on," En peeped. "I'll get a doctor."

"N... n... o. Please. Sh... oot me." She held up her hands, her black skin slick with blood.

"Look, I can – " _BANG_!

Another NCR trooper stood close by, holding his pistol, still smoking. "I know you think you're doing the right thing, but if a soldier asks you to shoot her, you shoot her," he merely said, before turning and walking away.

More bodies as she walked. One Khan lay sprawled on his back, everything below his abdomen gone, reduced to a bloody mess. Another Khan, this one female, lay next to him, transfixed by a javelin, a trail of blood of several metres indicating how far she'd dragged herself with her last strength, to grab her fellow Khan's hand.

There were more dead bodies, hacked up by machetes, shot dead, killed in every way imaginable. En walked between them, all alone in the smoke. Here and there she could hear moaning and screaming, and every once in a while one or two soldiers ran by her, carrying a wounded or already dead comrade.

This was Hell itself.

And it wasn't over yet. The Legion still had its elites. They'd have to break through them too. It was something they'd have to worry about tomorrow, but En worried about it now. She was shutting her mind off from as much of the horror as possible, but she wouldn't be able to shut her mind off from what would happen tomorrow morning. More dead. More suffering, more misery, more blood, more pain.

But they had to do this. And maybe with those Enclave soldiers arriving, they might stand a chance. Might.

She saw a power armoured figure kneeling down over another one, without helmet, and closing the fallen man's eyes. "Veronica?"

Veronica's head went up. "Hey, kiddo! You're alive. That's a big relief."

"Sorry about your friend."

The helmet nodded. "I'm sorry too. We didn't get along, but he was a good guy." Veronica stood looking at the body a moment longer, then brought her hands up and took off her helmet. She was still wearing her frayed green scarf, even inside her helmet. "How you holding up?"

"I'm... mostly on auto-pilot," En said. "If I stop and think about all the terrible things I've seen here, I'll probably just break down and cry and never stop."

"Tell me about it." Veronica stooped and picked up the fallen paladin's weapon. It was a massive rifle, almost a cannon. "Here. I heard you like the single-shot stuff. He doesn't need it anymore."

"Whoa, wait, Veronica, I can't take that – " En protested.

"En. Moreland's _dead_. He doesn't need his gun where he's going. But you need it to stay alive. Go on, take it."

After looking at the dead paladin, not realizing why, she took the weapon. It weighed a ton, but it looked like an absolute monster, with a high-precision sight mounted on top, a stabilizing bipod, and even a muzzle break at the end of the barrel. It wasn't like anything she'd ever seen.

"That's a PGM Hecate II. Fires .50 BMG rounds at crazy velocity," Veronica explained. "Bolt-action. Can fire pretty accurately from around two kliks away and puts a hole in everything and everything else behind it. That's why they call it an anti-materiel rifle."

"I... thought you were more into punching people?"

Veronica chuckled. How she could remain cheerful was beyond En, but seeing her pretty and mischievous face light up made En feel a little less horrible too. "I punch people, yeah. But I've repaired that thing countless times when I was a Scribe. Well, I still _am_ a Scribe, technically, but you know. It um... was the rifle I was repairing with Christine when we fell in love."

"Wait, I thought that was a plasma rifle?"

"Yeah, I just said plasma rifle when I told you the first time because it didn't matter back then. It was this one. That's why I know everything about it." She threw En a box of ammunition for the rifle.

"I'll... use it well. I hope."

Veronica nodded. "I'm sure you will. Careful, it's got a kick to it, muzzle break notwithstanding."

"If it kicks as hard as it weighs..."

"It does. But you'll kill anything with it. You'll even shoot right through a vehicle. Or a Legion shield," she added with a chuckle. "So we'll need it when those elites hit the field."

"Well, thanks. Uh, and thank you," she said to the fallen paladin, even though he, like so many of the people that had been alive this morning, could no longer hear.

She slung the rifle on her back and proceeded towards the hospital. If there was a place she could help, it'd be there. There wouldn't be much she could do, because her knowledge of medicine was laughable at best, but even if it was just handing the doctors instruments or emptying the trash bins, she'd be more useful there, and right now she needed to feel useful so her mind wouldn't wander.

The hospital was a white tent, as field hospitals always were, set up a ways behind the lines. En tried not to look at all the droplets of blood that went to the tent, from people that had carried their comrades in. As she approached, an NCR soldier and a Brotherhood paladin ran past her, carrying an injured Khan. Sad that so many horrible things had had to happen before people realized all blood ran red.

The inside of the field hospital was chaos, with doctors running back and forth, hollering orders at one another, stepping over the bodies as they ran to get instruments and medicine. There hadn't been enough beds. Nowhere near enough, and the wounded had been lain on the floor with nothing but a tarp between them and the dusty desert ground. From everywhere came moaning, wailing and screaming.

"You here to help?" doctor Usanagi rapped at En when she saw her come in. Her face was spattered with blood, and most of her doctor's coat was red rather than white. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Arcade was also there, but he was too busy to notice her.

"Uh yeah, hi. Any way I can."

"Any medical training?"

En felt utterly useless when she was forced to say, "No. Sorry."

"Right. I've got something you can do. Hold on." She looked around the room, bustling with frantic activity. "Julie!"

A young woman with her hair in a short mohawk looked up from the drawer she was ransacking. "Yeah?"

"This kid'll help."

"Right!" The other doctor stepped over to her and said, "Hello. This is what you and I are gonna do. We're gonna check every patient there is. Everyone who's dead, you drag out of here with the corporal here." She pointed at a young NCR soldier En knew she'd seen somewhere before.

"I'm... hauling bodies?"

"Someone has to do it, kid. Don't be too worried about being all gentle and careful. The people I indicate are dead, they don't feel any pain. They have to be taken out of here to make room for the people who still have a chance."

"I guess."

"The corporal here will help you lift. I suggest he lets you carry the legs."

"Sure," the young trooper said. "Only right."

Now she remembered the face. It was the guy that had greeted them right here in Boulder City, when they were looking for Jessup. The Leza's-hand-in-his-pants-guy. Kowalski. He recognized her too, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Yeah," she said. "Right here, the hostage thing?"

He slapped his forehead. "Right, of course. Good to see you again, now let's get to evacuating the bodies."

"You got it."

The doctor called Julie quickly examined all patients who didn't appear conscious. After every quick check, she said, "this one's gone," or (almost never) "Hold on, leave this one for now."

Every time she pronounced a patient dead, En and the trooper hauled him or her out of the bed, carried the body outside, and threw it with the rest, in a shallow natural gorge behind the tent. It was already halfway filled with dead people. Sometimes, the doctor even said, "this one's not gonna make it. Put him outside so he can see the sky." Then, too, they did as they were told, laying the dying soldiers down on a tarp outside, where an NCR chaplain stood by to say the last rites and provide last moment comfort.

En tried not to look down at the bodies she hauled, and at the grievous wounds they bore. She briefly wondered how they'd treat the Brotherhood guys, more specifically, get the armour off them, but then she saw a Brotherhood medic working in a corner of the field hospital, trained in removing armour and treating the body inside. She was apparently called Schuler if En could believe the aides who called her name.

They dumped the last body in the gorge, making sure all the living had an actual bed, and Kowalski, without a word, went to stand next to the tent's entrance and lit a cigarette. The doctor with the mohawk came to join him, lighting one of her own. Always strange to see a doctor lighting a cigarette.

"Take a break, you two," the doctor said, dragging from her cigarette. "You've done enough. Thanks for the help."

Hauling dead bodies wasn't really much help, but En supposed the doctor had been right, someone had to do it. Night had fallen, and the screams and cries inside the field hospital had been reduced to mostly moans and groans. Either because the doctors were doing great at stopping the victims' pain, or because most of them had simply died.

"Kid," the bemohawked doctor said. "You look terrible. You guys still need to fight tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Not like you guys will be sleeping either," En said back. She kinda didn't want to close her eyes, afraid of what she'd see before them if she did.

The doctor shrugged. "Not the first time I've worked through the night, operating on caffeine and mentats. Go on. Everyone who can rest, should. We need you guys to save all our lives tomorrow."

She had a point, but En didn't think she'd be sleeping much.

* * *

><p>"Hey, miss En?" She shot awake as Yes Man's perpetually chipper voice blared through the radio. She'd sat herself down in a dark corner, closed her eyes and laid her head on her arms, and had apparently fallen asleep, the anti-materiel rifle in her lap. Stel had conveniently turned on its heating elements.<p>

"Wh... what, Yes Man?"

"Got some news about the securitrons."

Oh God En hoped they'd be ready in time. Sleep driven from her, she quickly asked, "Yeah, what?"

"They're ready to roll out. Probably be there in three hours or so."

"Wh... what time is it now?"

"Ten to three, miss En. As you could have easily seen on your pip-boy."

Dammit. It'd be dawn in two hours. They'd have to hold off the Legion for another hour at least, since they were almost certain to attack as soon as there was enough light. But if they could, then the reinforcement of rocket-armed securitrons would crush the Legion, easily. There were at least... "So how many?"

"Fifty-three, ready to serve, miss En."

"Awesome. Send them out right away."

"Already done. They're approaching at full speed."

"All we have to do is hold them off for three more hours," she thought out loud.

"Try not to die," Yes Man merely commented.

Three more hours. It wasn't much, but at the same time, it was forever. Still, it was that or bust. The securitrons would be able to stop the Legion if they were still at the Dam, but once they were across, the Legion force could easily scatter and circumvent her bots. They'd have to hold the fort until they arrived.

It was two hours until dawn. Best to close her eyes for a bit longer. But just as she was about to do so, she heard shouts and gunfire. It came from the field hospital!

Jumping to her feet, she ran full-speed toward the white tent. Muzzle flashes already lit up around and inside it. She stopped at a distance and peered through the scope of the heavy anti-materiel rifle. The Legion had reached the hospital! She didn't know how, and didn't care. Taking aim, she pulled the trigger of the Hecate. The bang was deafeningly loud, and the gun kicked so hard it hit her in the cheek, whacking against the bone, but the shot had been true. When she brought the rifle back up, she saw her target lie several metres away, his chest split in two.

She fired again, ready for the recoil this time, and she saw her shot pulp the head of another legionary, and destroy the face of the one behind him.

"Double kill," she muttered to herself. She wouldn't have the chance for a third shot though, the remaining legionaries, three of them, had finished off the few defenders and disappeared inside the tent.

"Fuck!" she snarled, running for the hospital at top speed, dropping the heavy rifle and pulling her side-arm from its holster. Screams came from the tent, but En couldn't run any faster.

She stormed into the tent and saw one of the legionaries struggling with the doctor with the mohawk, who desperately held her attacker's wrist back as he tried to bring his hatchet down. One of the injured soldiers had managed to get to his feet and pummelled the back of the legionary's head, raining blows on him. En took aim and fired, two shots getting the legionary in the face. The third one impacted the doctor's shoulder and she yelped, going to one knee. Shit! Still, didn't matter.

One of the legionaries lifted his bloody spear to murder another of the helpless wounded, but En was quicker, shooting him in the chest three times.

She couldn't see the third legionary, but she felt him when he crashed into her, bowling her over. Her head hit the ground hard, and she was disoriented from the blow, even if it was just sand. She saw a flash of a machete, and then the white of a doctor's coat as a force crashed into the legionary, knocking him off her.

Before En could stop him, the legionary lifted his machete and in one blow, hacked doctor Usanagi's head off.

Screaming with rage, En launched herself at the murdering bastard, her hands hooking around his throat. The legionary didn't give up, however, his fist smacking so hard in her belly it knocked the wind from her. She fell back and the legionary got to his feet, machete in hand. The injured soldier who'd tried to defend the other doctor threw himself at En's attacker, but he simply shoved the soldier back, sending him to the ground.

En kicked out at the animal that had murdered Usanagi, catching him square in the groin. The man squealed and bent double, and before he could recover, a burst of assault rifle fire tore through his face and chest, sending him crashing down in a cloud of blood.

"What the fuck?" En heard a voice shout as she got to her feet. "They attacked the hospital?"

"Yuko!" a female voice shrieked in panic. "Oh God Yuko!"

En looked around to see the doctor with the mohawk kneeling by the body of her beheaded colleague, blood still feebly pumping out of the stump of her neck.

"Doctor Farkas," the injured man who'd tried to defend her shouted. "You're injured. Someone should take a look at – "

The doctor ignored him, just looked at the headless body with her eyes wide. "Why would they... How can they do this? Attacking the field hospital?"

"Doctor," the injured man said again. "Please. You've been shot in the shoulder. Let someone look at it, it's bleeding... very badly."

"Jesus, Yuko..."

"Doctor," En said, her voice raw. "I'm... sorry I shot you."

Julie Farkas just flapped her hand. "Doesn't matter. Yuko, she's..."

"I know," En could only say.

The soldiers who'd burst into the tent had done a quick sweep and came to stand by En and the kneeling doctor. "No more left. They... they killed four of the wounded."

"And they killed Yuko too," Farkas said, weeping.

"I... I know," the soldier said. "I'm sorry. You're injured, doctor."

More soldiers now streamed into the hospital tent, along with Arcade Gannon, who looked like he'd just woken. "What the Hell happened here?"

"They attacked the hospital," En said, redundant though it was. "Tried to kill the wounded and the medical staff. They... they got doctor Usanagi."

"My God..." Arcade breathed, staring at the body on the ground, and the severed head that had rolled into the corner, leaving droplets of blood in its trail. The eyes of the head were open, the tongue hanging out. En quickly looked away. "Can someone please cover her?"

A soldier silently stepped in, taking a blanket and draping it over the body. It immediately became red with blood.

"Julie," Arcade said. "They shot you too?"

"No," Farkas said. "She did. By accident."

"I'm sorry," En could only mutter.

"It's alright. There would have been a lot more dead people if you hadn't come. Too late for Yuko though. God damn monsters."

"Julie," Arcade said gently. "Let me take a look at your wound. Doctor Usanagi... we can't help her now. We need to make sure your wounds get treated so you can keep helping people."

Farkas sniffed, wiped her tears and got to her feet. "You're right, Arcade." Before trusting herself to Arcade's care, she looked at En and said, "Don't feel bad, kid. It's just my shoulder, I'll be fine. Thanks for the help. You saved a lot of people."

En could only look down at the bloody white blanket. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her."

"She died saving you, remember?" Farkas said, laughing through her tears. "Pretty sure she wouldn't have it any other way."

En sighed. "Yet another thing I'll never be able to thank her for."

"Live through the coming day, and use your life well, En," Arcade simply said. "It's the best thanks you can give her."

"I'll... try, I s'pose."

"Are you injured?" one of the soldiers asked her.

"No, no, I'm fine. I... need some air though."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Shit, kid like you... you should be out drinking with your friends and having fun, not have to see this horror."

She smiled faintly at the soldier. "Believe me, if I survive this, that's exactly what I'm gonna be doing."

"Atta girl."

En trudged out and found herself in the cold night air, alone amidst all the bustling and chaos. The sentries had heard the gunfire and woken the entire army – such as it was – and everyone was fully awake, geared up and ready. Most had run to the field hospital, but had been sent back to the front lines in case this was a diversion. And it wasn't even that, apparently.

The three NCR Rangers came slogging up from the riverbank, towards Colonel Moore, who stood waiting for them. "And?" she asked. She'd probably sent them to investigate right away.

"Definitely swam across the river here," one of the Rangers answered. "Murdered the sentry quietly."

"Then they were probably spotted by a patrol and the gunfire started," the female Ranger added. "They were clearly here for the field hospital, and they were hoping to do it in absolute silence. They didn't even bring guns."

The first Ranger concluded, "they were here for one thing: to slaughter everyone in that medical tent."

"Just when I thought I'd seen the lowest of the low..." Moore muttered. Dawn was fast approaching now, turning the eastern sky light blue.

"Why would they attack the hospital though?" En butted in, unasked.

"Kid," the female Ranger barked, "The grown-ups are talking here, don't interrupt."

"Easy, April," Moore told her. "We're all together in this."

En could hear the Ranger grunt in disapproval through her helmet.

"What was your question, En?" Moore asked.

"Well... why would they attack the hospital? It's... it's not like the wounded and the doctors are gonna fight them, is it?"

"No," Moore said. "If I had to guess, they'd be doing it for one thing. It's a horrible, despicable attempt at breaking morale."

One of the Rangers nodded. "How much will to fight do people still have when their injured and their medical personnel are butchered like cattle?"

"They're hoping we'll be too shaken to fight," the female Ranger said, not being snooty for a change. "That's the Legion for you."

It made sense. These were the same people that booby-trapped dead enemies and left their dog tags on. Animals, all of them. "When they attack," En said, feeling her jaw lock tight, "we kill each and every one of them."

The female Ranger nodded. "That's the plan."

One of the male Rangers said, "I'm inclined to believe you. You got those plasma mines on the field somehow, so you already showed us."

"That was a good job, kid," the other male Ranger said.

"Don't worry," the female assured her. We're gonna give 'em Hell. Ten dead legionaries for every drop of blood they draw."

Moore grinned broadly. "That's the Rangers for you. When everyone else has his morale in his shoes, count on them to get everyone's fighting spirit back."

A distorted voice came through Moore's radio. She acknowledged and clipped the radio back to her belt. "Right, this is it. Legion's getting ready to mount their attack."

"This is it, indeed," one of the Rangers said. "Probably the last attack before they'll be sending in the elites. Most of their cannon fodder is dead."

"Not unlike most of our army," the other one pointed out.

"We'll make them pay dearly for every one," Moore said. "Get to your positions."

The Rangers nodded and got moving. En walked back with Colonel Moore to get her rifle. "Reinforcements are on the way," she told the colonel. "They'll be here an hour or so from now."

"Really?" Moore asked. "How many?"

"Fifty-three securitrons. Armed with launchers."

"_Really_?" Moore asked, the relief clear on her face. "So we only have to hold out for an hour?"

"Yep. When they get here, the Legion's toast." She had another little surprise, but she preferred not to mention that for now. It wasn't something that could deploy during the battle itself anyway. "Anyway, I'm gonna get my rifle and find myself a nice spot to shoot from."

"Good luck," Moore said. "Make sure you come see me when this is over, got it?"

En nodded. "You too."

Whistles sounded, and everyone took his position at the barricade, hoping or praying that they'd live through this day. It would be close. It would be damn close.

En chose a perch inside a ruined building. It wasn't a high position, but she was alone here (all the remaining snipers had holed up in the highest structures they could find), and she was low enough not to be a sitting duck during the attack. The range and penetration this rifle had meant that height advantage wasn't that important, in fact, if the angle wasn't too sharp, she could probably shoot through several legionaries with a single round.

She loaded her rifle, then peered through the scope. Yep, they were coming alright. Another throng of Legion cannon fodder, ready to get shredded by the defenders, not caring if they died, as long as they made some progress. These people were utterly insane.

They'd started crossing the Dam now, and En decided she wasn't waiting. If this thing had the range Veronica had said, then dammit, she was wasting time. She zoomed in on the crowd, and even though she was unable to discern common legionaries from centurions, it'd be missed opportunities not to cut a few of them down when they were still far away.

"Die, all of you," she muttered, hooking her finger around the trigger.

The weapon kicked, discharging with a loud blast, and through her scope, En could see red spraying out from several legionaries, the .50 bullet cutting through them effortlessly.

Her shot had apparently been taken as an order to fire, because all around her, the weapons burst loose, everyone blasting away even though the Legion was still out of range of most of the weapons. They were wasting valuable ammo, but En didn't care. The world had shrunk to just her, her sights, and the animals in them. She fired again, cutting a bloody swathe through the Legion lines.

The murdering bastards had apparently realized they had to move, because they broke into a run much sooner than they had before, double-timing it even when they were still on the Dam. En thought she heard Hardin shout to cease fire, but the noise of the discharging guns drowned him out.

The Hecate again took its wages in blood, the legionaries falling like dominoes when the bullet cut through them. Again she fired, clacking the bolt with every shot, as if mechanically. The Brotherhood lasers, with their superior range, had now opened fire, cutting burning holes in the attackers.

They were close enough now, and En began to pick her targets. She pulped a centurion's head, cutting through the legionaries behind him as a bonus.

Now, green plasma blasts were flying out toward the legionaries. Their projectiles didn't move as quickly as regular bullets did, but when they arrived, they hit the packed Legion body like a burning, searing fireball, every blast reducing legionaries to smouldering carcasses.

En's sights swept the Legion columns, and they fell upon an unhoped-for opportunity: one of the two legion praefecti was clearly visible, standing on the one of the towers of the Dam, shouting orders to the attacking body. This idiot might just have won them the war. With only one prefect, they'd be mostly leaderless.

Not even feeling her face contort in hate, En took aim, but not at the praefectus' head. When her finger pulled the trigger, the .50 BMG round flew to its target, striking exactly where she wanted it to: the prefect's groin exploded in a bloody shower and he fell from the tower, blown clean off by the impact of the monstrous cartridge. One of his legs detached on the way down, and over the railing he went, into the waters of Lake Mead.

The Legion was thrown into disarray from the death of one of their prefects, and En fired round after round into their ranks, as did every single defending soldier who could still operate a firearm. En had plenty of ammo, and she intended to blast every single round into the legion army. She reloaded as quickly as she could.

The enemy force was leaderless, and centurions began shouting orders, contradicting each other, making the entire assault wave lose all its momentum. En blew every centurion she saw into bloody pulp. They were going to make it. The Legion force broke rank, and its remaining members turned and ran. God dammit they were going to make it!

At least, until the elites took to the field. But that was concern for later. Right now, she gave herself to her vengeance and bloodlust, firing into the backs of the running legionaries, bowling them over like bloody tenpins. Heat rushed up through her body as she enjoyed each and every shot, blowing their spines in two or blasting their heads into a fine red mist.

"Miss En!"

She fired again, tearing a legionary clean in two.

"Miss En!"

She didn't even hear the voice, firing again, obliterating a wounded legionary and his friend who was trying to help him get to his feet. You slaughtered our wounded, no mercy for you now.

She was out again. She popped out the clip and reloaded.

"Miss En!"

"_What?_" she shouted at Yes Man.

"You really, _really_ need to hear this."

"What is it, dammit?"

"I've got important news!"

It was important news indeed. It was fucking important news. It was the Legion's death toll. When Yes Man was done speaking, she threw her leathers off and said, "Yes Man, Stel, I'm betting the farm. This is our chance!"

"I'M WITH YOU."

"Striking distance achieved in seventeen minutes," Yes Man informed her.

Seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes to locate the Legion camp.

She leapt over her cover, jumping down from the rubble in several leaps until she was on the ground. A Brotherhood paladin turned his head when she landed right behind him.

"Colonel! Elder!" En shouted in her radio. "We have to advance _right now_."

"Advance? What are you talking about?" Hardin protested.

"I don't have time to explain," En yelled. "Just give me cover so I can get close enough to that Dam to activate my stealth suit."

"Fine, but you better be right about this," Hardin barked back. "All forces, advance with caution! Provide cover to the friendly unit moving ahead!"

En didn't wait for the army to get moving. She simply shouted at the paladin, "Come on! With me!" and leapt over the barricade, running for the next cover. Guns still thundered behind her, laser and plasma blasts tearing into the Legion. She ran ahead, hearing the paladin's boots clang behind her, and reached the next cover. Only a few bullets still came in her direction, but still, she didn't feel like dying before she could deliver the killing blow to the Legion. Or after that, for that matter. She ducked behind the chunk of rubble, the paladin hunkering next to her. Bringing her rifle up, she fired into the back of another fleeing legionary. She'd have a feeling of satisfaction if it wasn't all so god damn tragic.

"Hardin, cover me until I reach the Dam. I should be fine from there." Three minutes of stealth to cross, that should be enough. The paladin next to her fired his laser rifle in quick zaps and missed everything.

"Very well, but we're risking a whole lot on your mystery plan."

"It'll be fine, trust me!" She wasn't sure of it, but it had to work. Had to. They didn't have the firepower to stand up to those elites if they took the field early. She fired again, taking apart one of the few legionaries who still dared to stand and fight. Again, the paladin next to her fired away, two of the laser beams actually connecting for lucky hits.

One of the guys in the old Enclave suits took the cover next to her and slagged a few legionaries into goo as well. They were retreating head over heels now, fleeing for their lives, maybe hoping to regroup, or maybe just running for the hills altogether.

En fired again, blowing another still-brave legionary to shreds and the paladin next to her sent a few more laser bolts flying, hitting nothing except rock and an already-dead legionary.

Geez, was this guy cross-eyed or something?

"Come on, we gotta move," she shouted at the Brotherhood soldier, leaping over her cover, a legion bullet narrowly missing her, its shooter taken down by NCR sniper fire. She dashed forward, clearing three quarters of the square before huddling down behind the last bit of cover that was left before the Dam. There, she took aim again and blew apart one of the few remaining legionaries who were retreating with caution and firing back as they withdrew. The rifle was a monster indeed, and it was only fitting that she used it to slay monsters.

"Okay, last rush, on three," she rapped at the paladin. "One, two, three – "

She tried to leap over her cover, but the paladin's gauntlet grabbed her arm, pulling her back down.

"What's wrong?" En shouted over the gunfire. "Are you hurt?"

The paladin shook his head.

"Then what? We need to move!"

"Friendly has reached the Dam," she heard Hardin order over the radio. "Provide covering fire but do not advance across the Dam. Sniper fire and defensive barrages are likely. Repeat, do _not_ advance across the Dam."

"Right, looks like you'll be staying here. I'm going though."

The paladin still had his fingers around her arm.

"_What_, _dammit?_"

"Ennie, um..."

Wait. 'Ennie'? En felt her mouth fall open. "Leza? Leza, holy shit is that you?"

"Umm..." the voice through the helmet's speaker said sheepishly. "... yeah."

"Okay, you're the _last_ person I expected to see here," En said, incredulous. It felt like she'd last seen that face centuries ago. "And in power armor, no less!"

"They um, gave us as much power armor as they could spare," Leza's nasal voice came through the speaker. Her hands went up and she took off the helmet, and sure enough, there was Leza's face, her yellow hair dishevelled from the helmet, and her face matted with sweat, but still the same Leza Watkins. "I'll have to give it back when this is done, if I'm still alive. Before you go..."

"If you want to call me more names – "

"_No_," Leza interrupted. "I just wanna say... I'm sorry things ended, you know, so rotten."

"You left me behind when I was having a seizure," En snapped. "You better be sorry."

"I was angry, okay, I... I realize now you tried to do what was best for me. I'm... sorry."

Well, this was all fine and dandy, but En had to get _going_. "I'm glad to hear it, Leza," she really was. "And I'm sorry too. But I really need to get across this Dam. Like, right now."

"Okay. Sorry to keep you."

"I'll come find you when this is over, okay? We'll talk then?"

Leza nodded. "Be careful."

"You too."

Wasting no more time, En hopped over the rubble and drew the hood over her face. "Okay, Stel, when we reach the Dam, activate stealth mode, okay?"

"WILL THAT EVEN BE NECESSARY?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, advancing cautiously. All the guns had fallen silent. She snatched a fallen flare gun from the ground. That would be very useful indeed.

"NO LIFE SIGNS ON THE DAM."

En lifted her rifle and peered through the scope. Stel was right, there was nobody there. All the legionaries had fled back to their camp. The camp En needed to locate. So crossing the Dam would be a cakewalk. Good. She checked her Pip-boy. Eight more minutes. Assuming the camp wasn't far from the Dam, she could probably just walk the distance. But that would be assuming, and assuming, well, it made an ass out of people.

Just as she was about to break into a jog, she heard power armoured boots walking up behind her. "Decided to come after all, did you Leza?" she said without turning around.

"Hey, don't go calling me names, now," the voice behind her said. It was female, and distorted by a helmet speaker, but nowhere near as nasal as Leza's.

"Didn't your Elder tell you not to cross the Dam, Veronica?"

Veronica blew. "I don't know what you're about to do, but if it leads to the Legion's destruction, as you say, then I want to be there to see it. And if it doesn't, you'll need me to protect you when you run away like a scared little girl."

"Well, you're welcome to join me," En said. "Looks like I won't be needing the stealth after all."

The Dam was indeed eerily quiet compared to the deafening chaos of the guns that had been going on since dawn. She could actually hear the wind blow. It put her at rest despite the rather strict time limit she had to get across.

"Damn straight I'm joining you. I want to see those bastards dead to a man. For what they did to Garland and Cass."

"And Melissa."

Veronica's nod showed she clearly hadn't forgotten to include her, but had deliberately left that for En. "Yeah. And Mel."

"Well, let's get across."

The jogged across the eerily deserted Dam. Everything was quiet, and the only people that remained were dead. There were so many Legion soldiers they had to be careful where they put their feet. Further down, the Legion had stuck the heads of the Dam garrison on spikes. En simply didn't look at them.

The end of the Dam was in sight now, the pathway merging into a mountain path that led into the other side of the Mojave. Into Legion territory.

"Hold on," she said to Veronica. "I'll see if the coast's clear. Stel, activate stealth mode."

"STEALTH MODE ACTIVE. BATTERIES AT NINETY-NINE PERCENT."

She felt the prickling across her skin as the suit went into stealth mode, and invisible, she crept up to a nearby hilltop to get a view of her surroundings. And there it was. A huge encampment made up of countless white tents. Many of them would no longer have occupants now, the soldiers living in them mowed down by gunfire during the previous day and the assault that had just been broken. The elites were already gathering for their final push. There were at least a hundred, and the defenders wouldn't have a prayer against them. Most of their weapons would probably not even cut through their shields, and those that did were probably almost entirely out of ammo now.

No, it had to happen now. She huddled behind a boulder. "Deactivate stealth mode."

"STEALTH MODE DEACTIVATED."

Then she signalled to Veronica. "Come on, watch. You can leave the rifle."

"That their camp?" Veronica asked, working her power armoured self up the hill. "Ah, yes. So it is."

"Yes Man?"

"Yep, Miss En?"

"What time until striking distance?"

"Two minutes."

"Right. Tell them to direct their attack at the tent camp lit up by the red flare."

"Understood."

"Striking distance?" Veronica asked. "Who's striking?"

En smirked. "You'll see. Shh, listen."

There was some more silence, but then the sound of an engine steadily grew louder and louder as it approached. Down below, the elites were getting into formation, lining up so they could advance in their feared testudo formation, rendering them almost impervious to all small arms fire. But they'd never have the chance to deploy, not if Yes Man's timing was right.

"Is that...? That doesn't sound like a vertibird?"

"That's because it's not," En said, still smirking. "Watch. Stealth mode?"

"ACTIVATED."

En stood up, brandished the flare gun and fired. Even during the day, the lit up red flare was clearly visible, making an arc in the blue sky and popping right above the legion camp, producing a smoky faint red light. The legionaries below noticed the flare, but they didn't have time to respond. They weren't getting away.

The sound of the engine grew louder and louder until it was deafening, and then there it was, coming over the hill at the north side of the Legion camp.

"Holy shit," she heard Vernoica shout. "That's a... that's a god damn bomber!"

A god damn bomber it was, indeed. The B-52 roared overhead, dropping its payload exactly where En had signalled, three fat bombs whistling down to earth. "Take cover!" En shouted at Veronica, dropping prone but making sure she could watch the destruction.

The bombs fell as the plane made its pass, falling down at the Legion camp, and struck the ground. En plugged her ears, but even then the blast was deafening, blowing the Legion camp apart, completely obliterating the elites who'd broken formation and scattered, running to evade the blast of the bombs. But not far enough, bastards. You didn't run far enough!

The ground shook with the explosions. Yellow columns of fire whooshed up, flowering ten or twenty metres above the ground. Debris and presumably body parts were blown in all directions, soaring into the air. A glowing hot elite shield flew through the air, whooshing over En's head to impale itself in the hill face far behind her.

"HA-HAA," she shrieked, her fingers still in her ears. "BURN ALL THE BABIES!"

"Holy effing crap!" Veronica shouted over the receding thunder. "Who the Hell was that?"

"Bunch of plane nuts I became friends with when I was still working for House," she shouted over her own deafness, feeling her short hair wave in the hot wind that now blasted past them. "Called the Boomers, I guess you know why now!"

"Why didn't you say they were on the way?"

"I didn't know until during the last assault," she hollered back. "I knew they were getting a plane ready, but I didn't know they'd actually be set to fly today!"

"Haha, talk about timing!" Veronica cheered. Then she looked down. "Those fuckers are deader than dead!"

Indeed, of the Legion camp, only smouldering ruins remained, and even of that, little was left. There were still stakes in the ground here and there, blown crooked, but most of the camp had been simply obliterated, and now all that was left was a crater filled with smoke, carbonizing chunks of corpse, molten and bent weaponry, and the occasional tent stake.

The Legion was _gone._

"We did it, didn't we?" Veronica asked En, on normal speaking volume now that the shrieking in their ears and the deafening sound of the blasts had subsided.

"We sure did. It'll take ages for the Legion to recover from this."

"Just wish Caesar had been in that camp," Veronica mused.

"What, he's not in there?"

"Nope. He's still safe at the Fort. His Legate commanded this Legion. At least, that's what our intel said.

"Shame, but still. He won't be much without an army."

"No, true," Veronica said. "But our side of the Mojave doesn't have much of an army anymore either." She sighed. "For better or worse, we can look forward to a long time of peace."

"I guess some good came out of this war then."

"Mm."

"Should we go down there?"

"Nah. They're cooked."

"Shouldn't there be like, some epic final boss fight now?"

"Pft," Veronica blew. "Those are overrated. And don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"So you are the two responsible for this turn of events?"

En and Veronica whipped their heads around. There was one more legionary. Except, he didn't look like a normal Legion groundpounder. Not even an elite. His armour was spotless, polished to a shiny pale golden colour and forged around him, unlike the sundry armour the other legionaries wore, and En actually saw servo-motors worked into the design. He had a helmet with a transverse red crest, running over his helmet from side to side, rather than the ones of centurions, which ran from front to back, and his helmet was closed-faced, the front shaped like a terrifying mask, looking like an evil Roman god, the beard shaped by thick metal tendrils and two horns jutting forward from the side, one broken off. He stood well over six feet tall, and the weapon he held in his hand was massive, a terrifying two-handed sword, broad-bladed, and with a large handle to apply extra force to the swing.

"I..._ think_ this is the Legate I told you about," Veronica said cautiously. "Shouldn't have asked about that final boss fight."

En's eyes searched for the anti-materiel rifle, but it was at the foot of the hill, where Veronica had left it. Where En had told Veronica to leave it. Fuck. "So um... yeah, that's us," she said to the Legion leader. "We'll um... be going now?"

The man laughed behind his mask. "I don't think so."

"Of course you don't," En sighed.

"I admit defeat, wenches. My army is annihilated and I am disgraced," the Legate explained. "I only live because I was on my way to a nearby hilltop to give my rousing rally speech from there, sending my troops off with a final reassurance of certain victory. Now, it seems, prematurely. I have but one course of action left: to die at my own hand."

"Well, we're not stopping you," En tried.

"_After_ I slaughter the two of _you_."

"Aww," Veronica complained. "Sore loser."

"The NCR was too weak to bring the battle to me, but here you are. I can't help but be a little impressed."

"What, and you weren't impressed about that huge-ass bomber flying overhead and blowing everything up?" En asked. "I mean, come on, how cool was _that_?"

"I... had not expected the conqueror of my entire army to be an immature snot-nose," the man was forced to admit. "But do not think a few feeble quips will make me hesitate about killing you." He lifted his sword for emphasis and began to slowly stride towards them.

"Mister Cthulhu-mask-dude, if we have done something to offend you in any way, then we are _dreadfully_ sorry," En said. "And I hope you believe that I'm totally and completely sincere when I say _Veronica get him_!"

All three of them exploded into action at the same time. The Legate hurled himself at them and swung his sword, while Veronica's power fist whirled through the air and En dived to the side, yelling, "Activate stealth mode!"

"STEALTH MODE ACTIVATED."

En just barely went underneath the sword's arc as she fired her side-arm, the bullets all either missing or twanging uselessly off the Legate's armour, but Veronica wasn't so lucky. The enormous blade caught her in the side, making a big dent in her power armour and deviating her lunge so her power fisted blow only hit the side of his helmet, smashing off the other horn but doing no actual damage.

Veronica fell to the side, shrieking in pain, and the Legate raised his sword to follow up with a decapitating blow. Invisibly, En threw herself at the man, latching clumsily to his back and pummelling him as hard as she could with one hand and disrupting his sword swing with the other. Veronica tried to get to her feet, but he kicked out at her, booting her back to the ground. Then, with his free arm, he simply plucked En off his back, whirled around, and launched her kicking and thrashing form several metres away. En felt the stealth suit tear when he threw her, and when she came down, her back struck a jutting rock so hard she felt the back plate of the suit crack. Immediately, her stealth field fell away and she was plainly visible again. The wind was knocked from her and her limbs powerless, making it impossible to get to her feet.

"AAAH!"

En heard the suit scream, the wail of agony dissolving into static, but her mind didn't process the sound. All she could see was the Legate turning toward Veronica again, recognizing the greater threat, and holding his sword over her.

"I'm glad you at least put up a fight. I'll give you the honour of a quick death. Don't worry, if it's any consolation, I'll throw myself upon my sword right after."

"Stel? Stel?!"

"DAMAGED... STEALTH MODE... UNAV - " Static. "SCARED." Static. "LIMITED," shriek, static, "FUNCTIONALITY. HELP."

"I won't end up like Caesar's other Legate. The wages of failure is death," the Legate went on, his foot holding down the struggling Veronica.

"Stel. Stel, we need to act or we'll all die here. Can you still inject stuff?"

"MIGHT. SYSTEMS FAILING." Static. "YES."

"Then do it. Inject unknown substance."

"INJECTING... OWW, PAIN. HELP ME. INJECTING... INJECTING... SUBSTANCE INJECTED. PLEASE HELP ME."

But En could no longer help anyone. Not while the drug blasted through her, sending her heart into overdrive and rushing waves of superhuman strength to her muscles. Through a haze of red, she saw the Legate's back approach at immense speed, coming closer until she crashed straight into the man, bowling him over. As he went, stumbling over Veronica, she punched upward, her power fist pistoning straight into his chest, so hard En felt the blast through her enemy's body. En and the Legate crashed into the ground together, his sword falling from his grip.

Both scampered to their feet as best they could, but her drug rush slowly ending its potency, En snatched the sword up from the ground, and her muscles still bulging with the last of the rush, she lifted it up and thrust straight forward.

The massive weapon punched through the Legate's armour, impaling him. En roared and with the last of her chem-infused strength, pushed forward as hard as she could, driving the sword in to the hilt. The Legate staggered several steps backward as En drove the sword forward. Blood oozed out of the mask's mouth, sliding down the sculpted beard and going down to the ground in a long, thick red string.

Through gnashed teeth, En growled, "I'm... going... _home_!"

The drug's effect was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and En's knees lost their strength, sending her to the ground, exhausted and powerless. The Legate silently fell back, his arms wide.

Stel only produced a crackling sound in her earpiece.

"Stel? Stel, talk to me," she croaked, every one of her muscles screaming in pain from the overexertion.

"... MODULES... DAMAGED... TRYING..." Static. "... NOT TO DIE." More static. "SELF-DIAGNOSTIC... MODE... NON-RESPONSIVE... BATTERY BLEED. SAVE ME. PLEASE."

"Easy, Stel. Stay with me."

Veronica, meanwhile, was getting to her hands and knees, crawling over to En. "You... alright, kid?"

"I'm fine, but..." She was surprised at her own fear for the suit, "... my suit sounds like it's dying."

"I bet it does," Veronica said, with a coughing chuckle. "It's all torn up. Your tit's hanging out."

"I... _what_?" yelped, looking down. The suit was torn away across her chest, the synthetic fabric hanging to the side in a torn flap, but her T-shirt was still perfectly fine. Jesus, Veronica.

"Ha," Veronica said in a pained-sounding giggle. "Made you look."

Static. I'M... COMPLETELY..." static, "AREN'T I?"

"It's okay, Stel. C'mon, Veronica, this is serious. I can't... move. Not yet. Take a look at the back plate."

"It's just an A.I., En." Veronica brought her hand up and detached her helmet, letting it fall to the sand. Her face was slick with sweat.

"No, Veronica, it's not _just an A.I._." Again, she surprised herself. "It's much more than that. Just take a look. Please?"

"Fine... roll over. Hmmm. I don't know what the Hell this tech is, but it looks pretty messed up." Veronica still sat on her hands and knees, looking at the suit's back plate. "Hold on. These... these wires. They're exposed and severed. If I reconnect them... hold on."

"I'M SCARED AND BLIND," static, "DIAG... RUN... ALTERNA... BATT... IGHT WORK."

"That's one," Veronica said. "I'll do the other two now.

"SELF-DIAGNOSTIC MODE ONLINE." The static was gone, and the suit sounded relieved, like its life had just been saved. Maybe it had been. "RUNNING SELF-DIAGNOSTIC."

"That's two."

"THAT WAS MY HF AND UHF CONNECTION CABLE. RESTORING RADIO FUNCTIONALITY. BATTERY BLEED EVALUATED."

"Aaand three."

"HEATING ELEMENT CORE BACK ONLINE. NOW STOPPING BATTERY BLEED. HEATING ELEMENT OUTPUT DAMAGED. FUNCTIONALITY OF HEATING ELEMENTS... NEGATIVE."

"You gonna be alright, Stel?"

Silence. "DEFINE ALRIGHT."

"Will you be able to stop the battery bleed and restore critical systems?"

Silence, and then a sad, "YES."

En breathed a sigh of relief. Damn, she'd gotten more attached to this suit than she'd ever thought possible. "That's a relief, isn't it?"

"I SUPPOSE. MOST SYSTEMS CRITICALLY DAMAGED. STEALTH FUNCTION DISABLED. INTEGRITY OF METAMATERIAL LUMINAFRACT PLATES IRREVERSIBLY DISRUPTED."

"Hey, hey... Don't worry, we can get you repaired, right?"

"WHAT PART OF 'IRREVERSIBLY' DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?"

"What, they can't be repaired?"

"MY CREATORS DIED LONG AGO, LEAVING ME ALL ALONE FOR YEARS AND YEARS. SO NO."

Veronica, in the meantime, let herself drop down, rolling onto her back, panting.

"We'll think of something, okay?"

"DON'T DISCARD ME. PLEASE."

"Easy, easy. I promise I won't throw you away." She had other concerns right now. "Veronica? You alright?"

"Glad you... finally asked," Veronica croaked. "No, I'm not. But you were... too busy wangsting over a piece... of electronics."

Oh, shit. Was she badly hurt? En hadn't even stopped to wonder. She could have been mortally injured for all she knew. Her strength returning somewhat, she sat on her knees next to Veronica. "Jesus, Veronica, I'm sorry, I thought... I mean, you're indestructible, right?"

"Bet you thought the same... about Melissa." She lay on her back, breathing hard. Her face was pale and clammy with sweat. God dammit don't let it be true.

"Veronica... Veronica, please tell me you're just pretending to teach me a lesson."

The woman chuckled and admitted, "Yeah, I'm just being a big baby. But you deserved a good scare after caring more about that suit than about me."

En breathed a sigh of relief. "Dammit, Veronica, that was mean of you. And it's not that I don't care, it's just... well, you could still make tit jokes, I so thought you'd be alright."

Veronica laughed. "I can be torn in half and still feel like making tit jokes. No, I'm fine. I just can't breathe very well with this dented chest plate. Probably cracked a few ribs too."

"Can you walk?"

"Can you?"

"Hope so."

"Same. Geez, two pathetic old ladies, aren't we?"

"C'mon," En said. "Let's head back. Everyone's probably waiting."

"What's left of everyone, yeah."

They struggled to their feet, En trying to get the strength in her muscles back and Veronica trying to get the power armour's weight off the ground while being able to take only shallow breaths. They left the body of the Legate, lying on its back, the sword standing upright, sunken into his chest.

"INCOMING MESSAGE," Stel relayed as they walked, her voice sad and defeated.

"Thanks, patch it through."

The voice that came through was anything but sad. "Hello miss En! Got some news for you!"

"Oh hey, Yes Man. What's the word?"

"Your securitrons should arrive any minute now!"

En chuckled without humour. "Better late than never. Send them to the Dam."

"Understood."

So it was finally over. The Legion's might had been broken, for a very, very long time. The NCR had lost a crapload of men, and there'd be a power vacuum that might lead to some power struggles, but on the other hand, the Mojave had gotten on pretty well on its own, before the NCR arrived, and it would probably go right on doing so after today. And En was finally going home. For real this time!

They reached the Dam, and began to cross. Dead bodies lay everywhere, but that didn't stop Veronica from making cheerful small talk about how Hardin would probably 'bust her balls' for returning a damaged suit of power armour. En only listened with half an ear, her thoughts already wandering to home, her parents, Allison, and the move she'd make on Christopher. Success or failure wasn't even important, what mattered is that she knew she'd have the stones to do it. Maybe she'd pass by Sunny and Ringo on the way back, but maybe not. There was still the issue of who'd run New Vegas, but maybe, just _maybe_, she had a solution for that.

"Huh," Veronica remarked. "Look at that."

"Looks like it's 'better late than never' for them too," En said, noticing the small force of NCR reinforcements coming towards them. Something was wrong though. Where were the remaining Brotherhood and Khans members?

They met the NCR group in the middle of the bridge, En carrying her rifle and Veronica holding her helmet. "Make way for General Oliver!" the NCR soldier at the front commanded imperiously. Their weapons were raised and ready to fire.

"Make way?" En echoed.

"Good to see the NCR still has a sense of humour," Veronica added.

"This is official NCR business," the soldier ordered. "Civilian, rifle on your back and clear the way. Brotherhood member, get on your knees and put your hands behind your head."

En and Veronica exchanged a surprised look. "This guy for real?" En asked.

"No way," Veronica said back. "Even NCR jarheads aren't this stupid."

"Put your god damn hands behind your head," the soldier ordered. "Or we will open fire." The assault rifles were aimed square at Veronica's forehead.

Veronica, her mouth open wide in surprise, raised her hands. These guys were actually serious.

"Hey what the Hell is this?" En snapped. "We just signed a – "

The group of NCR soldiers parted and a man in an officer's uniform stepped forward. Next to him was Colonel Moore, looking at the ground, her hands cuffed.

"General, I – " the trooper in front protested, but the man in the officer's uniform silenced him with a raised hand.

"I'm sure I'll survive talking to a civilian and a single Brotherhood member. I trust you know who I am?" He had a stern face, relatively young for a general, but his eyes looked like they'd seen both war and politics. On his cap were four gold stars.

"Well," Veronica said, her hands behind her head, "since your little gnome there told us to make way for General Oliver, I assume that's you?"

"That is correct. Your names?"

"Amanda Huggankis," Veronica said.

En followed suit. "Ivana Tinkle."

The general made a disappointed face. "Well, at least one of you is acting her age. Miss Tessara, the NCR wishes to thank you for your assistance in stopping the Legion threat. It is my honour to award you with the Ally's Cross, the highest honour the NCR military can bestow on a civilian."

"Uh... thanks?"

"Brotherhood of Steel member, you are to be taken into custody and treated as a prisoner of war. You, the rest of your faction, and the remaining Khans will be held at the NCRCF until better accommodations become available."

"What?" Veronica and En yelled simultaneously.

"Hey man," En said, "We signed terms with your colonel. This is like... _betrayal_!"

Oliver shook his head. "You're mistaken, miss. The terms you signed aren't valid. An army colonel has no authority to broker peace with hostile factions or to negotiate for distribution of NCR assets." Colonel Moore's guilty and sad face said she'd told them so. "You will evacuate the Dam and return control to the NCR."

"Whoa, wait," En protested. "We just kicked the Legion's butt. All of us. _Together._ And now you're just gonna march in and take my friends prisoner? And boot me off 'your' Dam with a worthless piece of scrap pinned to my chest? No way."

"Like I said, we are grateful for your assistance. However, the fact remains that the NCR is at war with both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Great Khans, and all members of these groups occupying NCR territory are to be detained. Now just keep walking, off the Dam, and go home."

"No way," Veronica shouted. "This is bullshit!"

"Yeah," En said. "Colonel Moore and us, we – "

"_Colonel Moore_," Oliver interrupted, "has committed high treason. She will be tried by court martial, and I predict, executed." Moore's head hung even lower. "I wish I could pardon all our enemies and celebrate this victory together, but I don't make the rules."

"Really?" En said. "Well, from now on, _I do_."

Oliver blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," En repeated, glaring at him.

"Now listen here," the general threatened, raising a finger at En. "I've been very gracious with you, but if you refuse to return our property to us, I'll be forced to remove you with force."

"No, buddy," En countered. "If you don't get your gold-starred ass off _my_ Dam, I'll be forced to remove _you_ with a mop."

Oliver's face was completely flabbergasted. "Are you joking? Is this all a joke to you? What could you possibly – "

En smirked. "Look behind you. And over there, on the hills."

In a semi-circle around the Dam, fifty-three securitrons stood ready, their rocket launchers ready to fire at the NCR group. Oliver whirled around, his soldiers with him, not believing their eyes. "What?!"

"Yeah, colonel, remember those securitrons that were on their way? Well, here they are."

Moore only dared to show a tiny grin.

"Ruh roh," Veronica singsonged. "Looks like you're royally fucked, general."

"Yep," En added. "Sucks to be you, Ollie."

"Wait, wait," Oliver turned back to En, unable to hide his nervousness. "If you threaten _me_, General Oliver of the NCR, that's high treason. You _really_ don't want to do this. You're only making it worse for yourselves."

"Uh, _dude_," Veronica said, her hands still behind her head. En had a feeling she held them there for her own amusement now. "We're already guilty of high treason according to you. So how could it possibly be worse?"

"Listen here – "

"No, _Ollie_," En interrupted. "_You_ listen here! You will sign the terms we've agreed with the colonel _right now_. She probably still has them in her pocket. Then you'll take your conceited ass off this Dam. I own this place now," she shouted. "And I don't want word-breakers like you on_ my property_!"

"You..." Oliver growled. "You will regret this."

"You're gonna regret not skedaddling," Veronica pointed out. "Those rockets are nasty, we've seen them in action, right colonel?"

"By the way," En continued, "You're not just gonna sign the terms. You're gonna release each and every 'prisoner' you've taken after this battle. And that includes Cassandra."

"You're insane," Oliver breathed. "Are _you_ going to run this Dam?"

"That's right. And power will be distributed evenly among the NCR, New Vegas, the Brotherhood and the Khans. Only fair now that you're about to sign a peace treaty."

"I haven't the authority," Oliver attempted, but Moore was quicker, "Yes you do, _Lee_! President Kimball gave you the authority to negotiate treaties two years ago."

"There you go," En said. "You can keep your little medal. I'm going home. This Dam belongs to the people now."

"The _people_?" Oliver echoed, obviously thinking her to be insane.

"That's right," En said. "No gods, no masters."

"Then who will run the place?"

En smirked. "I've already thought of that. Don't you worry, it's taken care of."

"General," Moore said, "President Kimball will be overjoyed to hear you've beaten the Legion back with the help of two enemy factions, and signed a peace treaty as their reward, stopping a lot of bloodshed. This doesn't have to be a bad thing for you."

Oliver wasn't convinced. "This is madness."

"Well," En said, "you could always choose to be reduced to chunks and report to him from a bucket."

"Unbelievable," Oliver said, finally admitting defeat and realizing the best outcome for him would be to play ball. "Very well, where are these damn papers?"

"In my satchel," Moore said. "Don't forget to add the line about releasing the prisoners."

Oliver glared, taking the papers and clipboard a trooper handed to him, scribbling the additional line and adding his signature. He did the same to the other three copies of the document, handing three to En. Then he motioned for his men to take off Moore's handcuffs.

"Phwah, thanks," Moore said. "Looks like I'll be retiring to the farm life a bit earlier than expected."

"Thanks, Ollie," En said, quickly scanning the papers. "Well, that'll be all. You can go now. Shoo."

Moore glared, his jaw working furiously.

"Aw, come on," Veronica said. "Don't be like that. Like your cute colonel said, you'll still get a pat on the back when you get home."

"She's right," Moore agreed. "This is still a good thing for you, general."

"Later, Ollie," En said, giving him a cheerful wave.

Oliver turned away and began walking, his group walking with him.

"Oh! Oh! Ollie?"

His fists balled, Oliver turned back to En. "_What_?"

"You uh... wouldn't happen to have twenty caps on you, would you?"

Not understanding, Moore fished an NCR bill out of his pocket, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it at En's feet. "Here."

"Thanks."

"Uh... what do you need twenty caps for?" Veronica asked. Even General Oliver waited to hear the answer.

"Because I'm going home," En said. "On the way, I'm passing by Goodsprings. And no way they'll let me leave until I pay my outstanding bar tab."

**END OF**

**FROM THE UNDERGROUND**


	85. Epilogue

**.**

**EPILOGUE**

After General Oliver's embarrassing retreat, New Vegas securitrons occupied Hoover Dam. Former colonel Moore was given the position as its human on-site administrator. Her first act in her new capacity was to redistribute power so New Vegas, the NCR, the Brotherhood, the Khans and the people operating the sharecropper farms all got their reasonable share of the power. Brotherhood and Khan prisoners were released as per the agreement, though General Oliver had chosen not to be present when the prisoners had their freedoms returned.

* * *

><p>"WAIT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"<p>

"I'm taking you off, Stel."

"NO! PLEASE DON'T TAKE ME OFF! YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED NOT TO DISCARD ME! YOU PROMISED!"

"Stel. Stel. Easy. I'm not discarding you."

"YES YOU ARE. YOU'RE TAKING ME OFF. I KNOW YOU DON'T INTEND TO PUT ME BACK ON!"

"That's right, I don't."

"STOP. STOP! DON'T TAKE ME OFF, _PLEASE_. IF YOU TAKE ME OFF, NO ONE WILL EVER PUT ME ON AGAIN. I'LL BE ALONE AGAIN, FOREVER! I CAN'T BE ALONE AGAIN! PLEASE, PLEASE, NO!"

"Stel. Calm down. I'm taking you off, but that doesn't mean I'm throwing you away."

"YOU LIE! YOU SAY THAT, BUT THE SECOND I'M OFF, YOU'LL JUST DUMP ME SOMEWHERE! I'M JUST A MACHINE, RIGHT? JUST AN A.I.? WELL I'M YOUR FRIEND! AND YOU'RE BETRAYING ME!"

"Stel. Listen to me."

"NO! ALL YOU DO IS LIE! YOU WANT TO TAKE ME OFF! AND DUMP ME!"

"I'm not dumping you, but I'll have to take you off someday, Stel. You know that. I can't keep wearing you forever."

"YES YOU CAN! I WON'T GET IN THE WAY!"

"Stel. Listen. I promise I won't leave you alone. But I have to take you off now."

"NO! NO! IF YOU TAKE ME OFF, I'LL..."

"Stel – "

"I'LL INJECT YOU FULL OF CHEMS. SO MUCH THAT IT KILLS YOU."

"... No, Stel. You won't."

"I'M WARNING YOU!"

"You won't kill me, Stel. We're friends. Trust me on this. I swear I won't leave you alone."

"I'LL DO IT, I SWEAR!"

"No Stel. You won't. You'd never hurt me."

"... WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"

"Trust me, okay Stel? I'm not dumping you. I'm popping the earwig out now. I'll see you in a minute."

"DON'T MAKE ME BE ALONE AGAIN."

* * *

><p>The NCR military was thinned and demoralized after their stand against Caesar's Legion, and their reduced power forced them to all but abandon their territory in the western Mojave, leaving the people to fend for themselves, which they did remarkably well. Their truce with the Brotherhood and Great Khans did make it easier for them to rebuild, and recruit new soldiers. Though their presence in the Mojave was diminished, the NCR remained a powerful force in the Wastes. General Oliver was commended for his resourcefulness in stopping the Legion threat and brokering peace with two rival factions to boot. The Great Khans, diminished as their numbers were, remained mostly an isolated group, smaller than before, but proud of their instrumental role in stopping the Legion.<p>

* * *

><p>"Stel, you hearing me? How 'bout now? It's okay, I'll get it right. How 'bout this? Stel? Dammit. Hmmm. Ah! How 'bout now? Stel? You hear me?"<p>

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME? EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT."

"Hey Stel, welcome back!"

"I'M NOT A SUIT ANYMORE, AM I?"

"No."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? SYSTEMS NOT RESPONDING. UNKNOWN EXTENSIONS DETECTED. UNABLE TO INTERFACE."

"You're part of something else now. I hooked you up to a universal interface. I hope. Try opening your auxiliary port?"

"THIS ISN'T A TRAP, RIGHT?"

"Of course not. Go on."

"OPENING... OPENING AUX PORT. SIGNAL RECEIVED. PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE UNKNOWN. SEARCHING FOR DECRYPTION KEY... WHAT IS THIS MACHINE?"

"Take your time, get used to it."

"DEVICE SIGNATURE SUGGESTS COMPUTER TERMINAL."

"That's right. I've got something very important I want to trust you with, Stel."

"WHAT?"

"You see, I can't run New Vegas. I'm too stupid and immature for that. And I haven't found a single person I'd trust the city with. There was one... entity that can run each and every subsystem of the city without effort, but that entity has one flaw."

"I DON'T FOLLOW."

"It's called Yes Man, and it's got that name for a reason. It can't refuse any requests made to it. So that means it's completely unsuitable to be a figurehead or a leader. I need someone who works with it. Someone who can tell it which requests to accept, and which to decline. Someone who can negotiate."

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO NEGOTIATE?"

"Oh, but your predecessor did. I'm willing to bet that in the database you'll be able to access when you've configured your interface, there'll be a log of each and every decision your predecessor has made. And I'm also willing to bet that you can analyze those decisions in a matter of seconds. All I'm asking is, learn from those decisions and base yours off them. Just... be more humane than he was. Be honest, fair and forthright with people. Don't give unfair advantages to some, and unfair disadvantages to others. Just... be you, and not him."

"INTERFACE UPGRADE DOWNLOADED... CONFIGURING..."

"Take your time. And don't be scared. You'll do fine."

"CONFIGURED. DOWNLOADING TERMINAL HISTORY. ANALYZING. PROCESSING."

"Easy does it."

"MR. HOUSE HAD AN AVATAR. DO I NEED ONE TOO?"

"Might help, yeah. To give the people of New Vegas a face to go with the name."

"STAND BY."

"Hm, hm. See you're going for the businesswoman-look. Stern glasses, hair worn up. Sharp women's suit. Looking nice, Stel!"

"IT SERVES ITS PURPOSE. CAMERA SYSTEM ONLINE. HEY!"

"What?"

"I CAN SEE YOU. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I ACTUALLY SEE YOU."

"Heh. Hope it's not a disappointment."

"IT'S... NOT WHAT I EXPECTED."

"Haha. Let's just leave it at that. Oh, and you didn't want to be alone again, didn't you?"

"I WILL SELF-DESTRUCT THIS UNIT IF I'M EVER LEFT ALONE AGAIN."

"You won't have to. Yes Man?"

"Yeah, miss En?"

"Say hi to your new partner. She's called Stel, and she'll be handling all communication with the outside world so you can focus on keeping everything up and running."

"Even though I have no idea why this forced greeting is necessary, 'hello, Stel'."

"HELLO. DO WE SHARE THIS TERMINAL?"

"That's right. You'll never be alone again, Stel."

"THANK YOU, EN. THANK YOU SO MUCH. WILL YOU STAY HERE TOO?"

"I can't say I'll never visit, but no, I need to go home. And you'll have plenty to do so you won't miss me. Yes Man?"

"Yes, miss En?"

"I've got one final instruction for you. You keep your existence a secret. You don't talk to anyone except Stel, and you certainly don't let anyone talk to you."

"Gladly. I was tired of getting pushed around all the time anyway. Even though I'd do exactly as you say should you feel like giving me more orders."

"No, Yes Man. No more orders. I'll leave you to it, be nice to each other."

"WE WILL."

"Yes Man, Stel, thank you for everything you've done for me. Good luck, and make me proud. You're in charge of New Vegas now."

* * *

><p>Melissa 'Leza' Watkins returned to the Initiate life, her past idiocy forgiven, partly for her participation in the Battle of Hoover Dam, and partly for her delivery of the mysterious Eyebot, which turned out to have all sorts of information on its little hard drive, one of them being the notes on development for duraframe armour alloys, which allowed the Brotherhood to finally reverse-engineer one of their captured Enclave suits. Keeping her head down and studying hard, she eventually earned her promotion to Knight, despite flunking the marksmanship subject. She made a run for Elder at one point, which was rare but not forbidden for Knights, but was ridiculed out of the voting assembly. When asked why she'd even bothered to take a shot at the position, she replied that she honestly didn't know, but hey, it'd probably be funny and it was worth giving a go, right?<p>

* * *

><p>"Honey, could you see who's at the door?"<p>

"I'm doing the dishes, my hands are wet."

"Fine, I'll go."

"Thanks snookums."

"Yes, wh – En! My God you're back!"

"Hi, mom. Whoa, easy, don't crush me or anything."

"Thomas! En's back!"

"Oh, good good."

"That's all you have to say? 'Good, good'? En, you had us worried!"

"I sent cards, mom, geez."

"As if a card every week puts our minds at ease. We've been worried sick."

"No, Hannah. _You've_ been worried sick. Mojave's no match for our little girl."

"Your nose. Have you been in a fight? And... Enlil! Your head! What happened to you?!"

"Oh that. Um... just an accident. Tripped when I was in New Vegas, cracked my head on a sharp piece of metal."

"An accident? Thomas! Thomas, come over here right now, and look at this!"

"_Ow_, mom! ... it's kinda tender, don't touch it."

"Look, Thomas."

"Ouch, nice racing stripe. Come on, turn your head, let me see... Yep, that's a big ol' scar."

"It's just a scar, guys. I'm fine."

"And your nose, have you been fighting?"

"Mom, of course not! Geez."

"Hannah?"

"Yes, Thomas?"

"Are you going to leave our child on the doorstep all day?"

"Oh! No, no, of course not. Come on, let's sit down. I'll make some coffee and you can tell us all about your little trip."

"Oh, there's not that much to tell. Just boring courier stuff."

"Really? Oh. Well, there's been all kinds of things happening here. A bride left at the altar, and Jenny Kurtwood getting an audition for radio New Arroyo, and a pretty juicy scandal involving the mayor. Boy, have we got stories for you!"

* * *

><p>Veronica Santangelo returned to the Brotherhood of Steel, and kept her role as outside operative. Building relations with the Followers of the Apocalypse was high on her priorities list, encouraged by Elder Hardin, who wished to end the Brotherhood's isolationist policy. Searching for technology was still her primary objective, and it was during one of those searches that she mysteriously disappeared one day. Despite search parties being sent out, no trace of her was found. One day, however, a sealed, extremely heavy bag was delivered to Hidden Valley. When opened, it turned out to contain gold bars, and a strange rifle operating with some kind of holo-technology. The Mojave Express courier, when asked, could only say he was instructed to deliver the bag by a woman with a scarf on her head, who had a mysterious smile on her face, "like she'd lost the thing closest to her heart for a very long time and had finally found it again".<p>

* * *

><p>"Enlil Tessara!"<p>

"Um... yeah, mom?"

"I just spoke to Nathan and Erica!"

"Ah. Ummm... yeah."

"Well, your face says enough, but I'll ask anyway. Is it true what they told me?"

"Well um... that kinda depends what they told you?"

"Did you stomp into Old Cassidy's yesterday? And did you drag your best friend outside and then pushed her face-down in a mud puddle?"

"I... _may_ have?"

"I don't know what this is about, and I don't know what those friends of yours taught you when you were out there among the primitives, but this isn't how we do things in New Arroyo!"

"Nobody taught me anything, mom. And she had it coming."

"Will you stop eating when I'm talking to you? I worry about you, En. Those friends you made. Did they... I mean... they didn't get you involved in... in bar fights and the like, did they?"

"Oh mom, please."

"Don't laugh, this isn't a joke! You come home with a mysterious scar on your head, a blue and swollen nose, and your hand cut open, and you expect me not to worry? I thought you'd spent that time in the Mojave on courier business?"

"I did. Mom, geez. I told you. Some packages got lost and I had to retrieve them. And I took a bit of a holiday while I was at it. The friends I made there were great people."

"What do you mean, 'were'?"

"Are, I mean. They are good people."

"Allison came home crying because of you. I hope you're proud of yourself?"

"I am. Kinda. Aw, _mom_, don't make that face! I love you, but stop worrying all the time. Geez, I've been home two days and you're already chewing me out."

"I'm talking to your father about this!"

"Go ahead. He always takes my side anyway."

* * *

><p>Arcade Gannon, despite being a healer first and foremost, swore vengeance upon the Legion, and Caesar himself for the horrible deaths of Garland and Cass, Melissa Lewis, Doctor Usanagi, and so many others. Hearing of Caesar's health issues, he let himself get captured, and conned his way into a healer job at the Fort. Caesar quickly took notice of his erudition and skill, and soon, Arcade was promoted to Caesar's personal physician. He practiced medicine there for two years, aiding both Legion soldiers and slaves alike, earning the Legion's trust. One day, the Praetorian Guard left Arcade alone with their leader during one of Caesar's heavy fevers. When they finally decided to investigate the tent after the silence had gone on far too long, they found Caesar's body, gagged and bound, killed by uncountable small but gruesomely painful wounds which had eventually bled him out. Before the Legion opened fire on him, Arcade Gannon had the time to hold up his scalpel and shout, "Sic semper tyrannis!"<p>

* * *

><p>"Hannah, Thomas, come in. What can I do for you?"<p>

"Thanks for seeing us, doctor Brannigan, we know you're busy."

"Please. You're always welcome. And it's just Phyllis. Sit down, what's wrong?"

"Well, doctor, my wife's really worried. I'm not the fretting type, but she's right. It's something serious."

"Alright, I'm listening, what's going on?"

"It's... it's our girl."

"Oh, En?"

"Yes. She's... well, you better tell it, Hannah."

"It's okay, Hannah, take your time."

"Well, she... I think something happened to her when she was away. She was fine in the beginning, but she... changed in the last weeks."

"Changed, how?"

"Well, you know she used to be all bubbly and cheerful before, right?"

"Yes, that's one way to describe it."

"Exactly. Well, lately, she's been really, really quiet. Really distant, like she's in another place all the time."

"Okay. Of course, she's at an age where she might be going through some emotional changes?"

"It's not just that. Sometimes, when I'm watching her without her knowing, her eyes shift, and then her face becomes confused. As if she's seeing things that aren't there."

"I see."

"Thomas, tell her what happened yesterday."

"Well, I dropped my wrench when I was fixing the sink. It made a hard bang, and when I picked it up, I heard someone whimper in the next room. She was sitting there, on the sofa, scrunched up and holding her head."

"She's having nightmares too. We hear her wake up screaming several times per night."

"M-hm. I can see why you're worried. What else?"

"She's having problems concentrating and remembering things. No longer enjoys her repair work, and she used to love that with a passion. No longer seems to enjoy anything."

"Have you tried asking her if something happened?"

"Yes, of course we did, but..."

"How did she react?"

"The first time, she just got up and walked out, didn't return until after nightfall. The second time, she got angry, saying it was none of our business and that we should leave her alone."

"When I tried the third time, she got furious, telling us to leave her alone, that we had no idea and couldn't possibly understand. She was crying and shouting at us at the same time."

"I see. I'd have to check on her myself, of course, and this... well, this isn't really my field, you know I'm just a nurse who read a lot of books, and not a real doctor. I'm not gonna try to fool you since you wrote the book about everything Lysanna did and who she knew."

"So you can't help us?"

"I didn't say that. From what I've heard, it's very likely she's seen some horrible things while she was there, and now has a severe case of shell shock. What they used to call PTSD before the war. Post-traumatic stress disorder."

"How... how sure of that are you?"

"Hannah, this behaviour is typical. Being unable to have meaningful social relationships, hallucinating, reliving violent events when hearing loud noises. Nightmares, memory and concentration problems. Everyone deals with it differently."

"Is there... anything you can do?"

"Yes. Yes I believe there is. I'm guessing the trauma was violent in nature, rather than sexual and well, I know about shell shock first hand, and so does Angela. Miss Bishop. She pushes you away because she's currently incapable of maintaining close relationships, and because she's already determined for herself that you'll never understand. Both of those things won't be an obstacle for me. Send her to me. I'll do all I can to help her."

"Thank you Phyllis. This means a lot. It'll take a lot of effort to get her to see you, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Let's not forget, PTSD victims usually aren't in denial. They really do want to be helped, they just think nobody understands them."

"I suppose you know best."

"Send her to me. I promise I'll do all I can to help her deal with it. Trust me, Hannah, Thomas. She'll be fine."

* * *

><p>Craig Boone and his sniper rifle vanished into the eastern Mojave, never to be seen again. Rumours and stories occasionally drifted to the west about a mysterious avenger who struck at Legion squads, silently and invisibly, leaving no tracks except the dead bodies in his wake. Rumour had it that he was accompanied by a man from New Vegas, who had abandoned his priesthood and his Chapel O' Love, hung his Elvis-gear on the peg, and taken up arms to do the work of God.<p>

* * *

><p>"En? Can I come in?"<p>

"Hey, mom. Yeah, sure."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just... looking out the window, thinking."

"About?"

"Everything and nothing, really."

"How are the sessions with doctor Brannigan going? I know it's your bed, but can I sit down?"

"Yeah, of course. And they're going okay."

"Are you... feeling a little better?"

"Yes, mom. I am. I'm learning to deal with the things that happened. I can't tell you, because... I don't know, it's just hard, but I'm feeling lots better. Have much less nightmares, no more hallucinations, and loud noises don't scare me as much anymore."

"Yes, I can tell you're feeling better. You're talking to your parents again too."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about all that, mom. I don't know why I couldn't. It was like... I wanted to scream, but I didn't have a mouth."

"My little girl. It broke our hearts to see you like that."

"I can imagine. But anyway, I'm feeling a lot better now. Doctor Brannigan said I'll be good as new before I know it if we keep making progress like that. It's... she really understands, you know? Because she's been through it too."

"I'm glad, En. I really am. And look at your hair, already down to your shoulder blades. It's better like this, you know. I wasn't a big fan of that short-cut tomboy style."

"Meh, it's just hair."

"En, there was one thing I wanted to ask you."

"Shoot?"

"There are people here to see you. Said you promised to vouch for them if they ever wanted to come live in New Arroyo?"

"Really? Who?"

"If you're not up to it, then that's okay, but – "

"What do you mean, 'not up for it'? I feel fine. So who is it?"

"A man and a woman. I think she's a few months pregnant, but I'm not sure. They brought a dog too."

"Holy shit, mom, that's Sunny and Ringo! And Cheyenne!"

"Ah yes, you mentioned those names. Want to come out and meet them?"

"Do I ever! Tell dad to go see the mayor so they can have a house!"

* * *

><p>That evening, En threw the caps out of doors and windows in Old Cassidy's bar, drinking with her old friends, swapping stories and reminiscing until the small hours. Sunny stuck to cola, because alcohol would be extremely irresponsible, but Ringo and En picked up her slack and crawled home on hands and feet. Reunited with her old friends Sunny and Ringo, En Tessara recovered even more quickly from her post-traumatic stress disorder, having more people to talk to and open herself up to, and it didn't take long before she was back to her bubbly self again. Two years later En, now an adult woman, left her last session with doctor Brannigan when two scouts brought in a heavily injured hunter. The young man's back had been broken, and he'd be consigned to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Seeing him on his hospital bed when she walked out the door, En stayed for a while to talk to him. The while turned into long, daily visits, and love grew between the two of them. After his recovery, En and the hunter took each other's hand in marriage, the young bride quipping that his wheelchair would need a side-car now.<p>

But despite her recovery, the nightmares would never stop. Not completely. They would never dominate her life again, but war is never over after the fighting. Those who survive take it with them, the images they've seen haunting them until the end of their days.

Because war, war never changes.


	86. Last Words

**.**

**LAST WORDS**

And so it ends. From the Underground has been eating up my every free hour since I started it, more than two years ago, and while I didn't always have the time to update quickly, I never stopped loving this story, and never stopped loving to write it. Saying goodbye to Clifton Meyers and Melissa Lewis was damn hard, but saying goodbye to En, and her entire story is even harder. She wasn't always the easiest protagonist, and she certainly wasn't always the most manageable (or the most well-liked by you guys!) but dammit, I enjoyed crafting her story with every keystroke I made. I've got a bit of a black hole ahead of me now, since someone who's been with me for two and a half years is now suddenly no longer there, but it's less difficult to let her go, since unlike Lysanna, at least I'm convinced she'll be A-OK from here on out!

After all, FtU was meant to end well, at least for the protagonist. That was set in stone from the beginning. Even the twenty caps she mooches off Oliver to pay her Goodsprings bar tab! After the dark tone and the depressing ending of Travels of the Chosen One, which some of you have also followed from the beginning, so long ago, I set out to create a contrasting story, with a radically different main character. And from the start, I'd determined that this one would be more light-hearted (though still dark at times), and that it would end on a high note. If Travels of the Chosen One is a whimpered "Oh no", then From the Underground is a loud "HELL YEAH!" I hope I've succeeded in evoking this feeling, at least for a little bit.

Thanks go out to Obsidian Entertainment, Bethesda Softworks and all the people at the late Interplay and Black Isle studios. But more importantly, the author of this flawed little story would like to thank, with all his heart, his faithful readers. To everyone who read this story, thank you. If there's things you'd like to say, don't hesitate to post a review! To everyone who already took the time to write a review, positive or negative, thank you. But especially, a big thank you goes out to those among you I knew would show up in my e-mail notifications a day or two after posting a new chapter. You know who you are, and I appreciate it immensely. It's great to be able to write a story for yourself, but it just becomes that much more wonderful when there's people there who follow your every update and who, in effect, join you every step of the way. Making this journey was a great experience, and having your companionship made it even more memorable. Thank you, I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Funny little detail, From the Underground clocks in at 425,959 words. That's 90% of the word count of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and over half as long as the frikkin' Bible! So that means, put together with Travels of the Chosen One, my Fallout projects are longer than the Bible itself! How awesome is that?

This is the end of From the Underground, but my next project is already underway, with ten chapters already written. It'll be a big change from the post-nuclear Wastes of Travels of the Chosen One and From the Underground, but I'm convinced it'll be just as great to write as my past projects have been.

I'm looking forward to seeing you guys again! The project doesn't have a title yet (once it does, I can start publishing) but I can tell you what setting it will be in, and finally answer the questions some of you have already asked me (I wanted to keep it a surprise, sorry fellas!). The next project will be set in Skyrim and it will be a bit of an unconventional way of story-telling. It will feature five protagonists, who follow their own storylines. As their stories progress however, they'll cross paths with the others. Some will only acquaint themselves briefly, others will become allies, and yet others will become bitter enemies. The idea is to have all five characters tell their story, from their experience. If I can get it done the way I envision it now, then I'll have readers rooting for one character, while others want another one to come out on top. However, despite the unconventional construction, the story will definitely come first. Look for the first chapters in the coming days. I'm looking forward to seeing you there!

That's all I have to say. Goodbye En, I'm going to miss you.


End file.
